


Afternoon Skies

by magnumopustron



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Brainwashing, Canon-Typical Violence, Emotional Trauma, F/M, M/M, Mind Control, Multi, PTSD, Recovery, Wartime
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-07
Updated: 2018-01-16
Packaged: 2018-04-25 08:30:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 11
Words: 43,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4953439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magnumopustron/pseuds/magnumopustron
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Steve Rogers and the Howling Commandos raid a Hydra base in Austria in March of 1946, the Captain is in for a horrific discovery. Bucky Barnes is alive, but just barely, and he doesn't remember the Commandos or his best friend. Can they help their Sargeant and friend recover from his traumatic captivity and recover his memories?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Forty-nine-twenty-thirty-four

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be a SHORT fill for a prompt on the Hydra Trash Meme where the Howling Commandos find Bucky after he's been wiped and has lost his memories. *laughs at own inability to do short fics, then sobs  
> Here's a link to the prompt: http://hydratrashmeme.dreamwidth.org/1504.html?thread=2707936#cmt2707936 
> 
> Morita is the medic in this fic because I said so. :P
> 
> By the way, Greta looks like Diane Kruger. Cause I loved her in Inglorious Basterds. Also, the woman with the 'Alpine lake eyes' that Bucky remembers is inspired by actress Rebecca Ferguson. I have a thing for blue eyes, sue me.

He sits in the cell, waiting. It's cold in here, in the box. He cannot stand or stretch out his legs completely. It's just a small cell, but at least there's a tiny window with bars on it so sometimes there is sunshine. The rays of sun will shine through at a certain time of day so that they shine on the wall to the right of the door, and if he is in his cell at the time, he can curl up against that wall and enjoy their warmth.

He knows better than to whine or make noise. There will be pain if he does, usually the electric stick jabbed through the bars. The guard likes to aim between his legs. He has to be quiet.

There are noises from outside and he tries to look out the window but he can't really see much from his cell. There is mostly snow outside. His breath fogs as he peers through the cell window.

His brow furrows. He hears gunshots and he stiffens, eyes widening.

He hasn't touched a gun in a long time, he thinks, but he must have at some point because he can tell that it's an M1917 revolver. He clings to that information because it tickles some part of his brain. His head aches a lot these days but sometimes he gets a tickle on his brain, though he isn't sure what it means.

He squashes his cheek against the bars, wishing he could see. There are shouts now and more sounds. A chopping sound like... like a... an M1941 Johnson machine gun. Yes!

He smiles and it almost hurts, it's such a foreign feeling on his face. He knows what gun it is! He can almost feel it under his fingers, the kick of it, the sound... he bites back a whine as he wishes he could feel the gun under his hands. He's a good shot, or would be – he's certain of it somehow.

Even though he only actually has one hand.

There is a boom and the building shakes, the bars vibrating under his palm. He whines, then bites his tongue sharply, flinching. The explosion outside was loud, so they probably didn't hear him... Maybe.

He hears one of the guards down the hall say something. His lips form the words silently in mimic. He knows how to speak they tell him, but he can't access the words yet. He can only access the wrong language. They are always pressuring him to access the correct language – Deutsche.

The guard is talking to the other who responds urgently. The first guard to speak says something, sounding incredulous.

''They're outside?” He realizes he can understand some of what they are saying.

“Hostiles. Five... No six of them?”

“Americans?”

“How the fuck should I know?”

He hears a far off whistle and flings himself back at the window, his sole hand clutching the bars. He knows that whistle. He does. He just isn't sure from where but...

There's a laugh. He hears laughter below and he tries to look down through the bars. There are two men below his window somewhere!

He presses his nose through the bars and tries to see. He can spot the shoulder of one man, maybe twenty feet below, and he lets out a grunt. The men below do not hear him.

He turns and moves toward the barred door slowly, afraid the guard will come to the end of the hall and strike him with the baton. But he must know what's happening outside.

No, he doesn't need to know it's none of his business nothing that happens outside is your business, that window should not occupy any of your attention well it's cruel why is there a window if he isn't allowed to look or if it shouldn't occupy his attention they know it tempts him, _they know that_.

He groans softly at his spinning thoughts and pushes his hand in his hair.

Two more explosions follow and the building rocks. He almost expects the building to come crashing down, so he curls up, flinching. He hears snow outside flying into the air and a whoop.

He knows that whoop and the laugh that follows. He knows it.

Bright red hair and a hat. A small hat. Bowler?

He glances toward the window then frowns and looks through the barred door to his cell. He scoots closer and slowly, very slowly, tries to peek through down the narrow hall. His cell door faces the wall of the hallway and the door is on the guard's right whenever he comes down the hall.

He can just barely see the corner of the hall to the left of his cell door. His cell might have been a small utility room at some point, perhaps for a boiler. It isn't really meant for a human being but he isn't a human being, they tell him. It's confusing because they call him the American but they aren't supposed to call him that - the guards.

He has a number and it's forty-nine-twenty-thirty-four. He is that number.

He sees the guard rise from his chair and head around the corner, out of sight, flinching as he does so. Then forty-nine-twenty-thirty-four tries to peer down the hall again.

He hears silence for several minutes. Then there's another explosion, this time rocking the right side of the building. He feels the shudder through the floor and in the bars.

There is shouting down the hallway. The intruders have broken in. His eyes widen as he grips the bar tightly. Intruders. Should he be afraid? Or... Or is there something else?

He could not be pleased that there are intruders... could he?

It feels as if there's a wall inside of his head blocking him from something. It's very frustrating. They are... his handlers are... they speak German. They are German? They are... He is the American. He is an American?

_I'm from Fresno, ace._

It hurts to even try to think so he just sags.

There are more shouts and gun shots resonate through the hallways. He whines and feels the urge to urinate. They usually don't care if he urinates in his cell – they'll just hose him off later. But he's supposed to learn to hold it until otherwise ordered. The heavyset guard with the electric stick who likes to aim between his legs has taken to doing so if he urinates on himself. But he doesn't always do it and the other guards don't always seem to care.

His breath comes faster and his eyes are wide as he hears more shouts, closer this time. Somewhere in the building there are shouts in German. A door is slammed. Silence follows. Then there are shots. A pistol. A Luger. He smiles as he listens, waiting.

His eyes widen as the Johnson machine gun responds and he lets out a soft laugh. His hand moves to cover his mouth, his eyes growing hot. He isn't supposed to do that. He isn't supposed to make that sound and no-

_No!_

A man with a blue coat. He is wearing the blue coat. He is struggling as they drag him through the snow. His arm is cold, shattered, dripping blood, streaking the white snow with it as they drag him-

He grips at his hair tightly. He swallows the word down, eyes squeezing shut. It feels like his throat is full of rocks and his eyes are wet. He breathes hard, high desperate noises trapped in his throat.

A shot down the hallway, around the corner makes his ears ring and he crouches, scooting back from the door. He sits tight against the wall with the window, breathing hard.

There is the sound of shouts to cease fire and surrender. There are shots. There is a struggle.

He hears grunts – two men fighting. A third is saying something, trying to stop them? The other shouts for him to shoot. The gun fires.

There is the sound of a knife meeting skin, meat, contact and he shuts his eyes tightly again, his stomach swimming with nausea.

_They hack at his arm, cutting off the shattered remainder and he stares and tries to scream but the sound doesn't seem to want to come out._

He takes a deep breath in through his nose and exhales in the same manner. He keeps taking deep breaths as he listens. His heart is hammering and his ears are still ringing.

There is now the sound of panting. Only one man panting.

“Jesus,” he says. “Fuck...”

“Morita!” Someone else calls and the name rings down the hall, rings through forty-nine-twenty-thirty-four's head. He mouths the name to himself.

Morita.

He has an image in his head of a man's face – a Japanese man. It makes no sense. Why would an American man know a _Japanese_ man?

He tilts his head as he listens, heart still beating rapidly. He is covered in a light sheen of sweat.

“I'm in here,” the man grouses. He's tired, probably didn't get enough sleep last night. Morita never does...

None of them do.

He looks up, frowning. How does he know that? Who is Morita?

Who the hell is Morita?

He wants to go to the cell door again but Morita – whoever he is – will come and kill him because... because he is a prisoner. No. He is... yes he is a prisoner.

Wait.

“What the hell is this place?” It's a British accent and he feels... he thinks of a hat and... a scarf.

_It's not a scarf, it's an ascot, thank you very much, Sergeant._ The him in the image in his head smiles and laughs. He's wearing the blue coat. 

He is not forty-nine-twenty-thirty-four in the image. He is... Sergeant?

He waits in silence, licking his lips.

“I have no idea. I can't wait to blow it to fucking kingdom come though. Speaking of which, where's Frenchie?”

There's an exhausted declaration in French and another voice joins the other two in the hallway.

“Hey. Speak of the devil,” Morita says. Something in his voice, the sharpness of it, is like home. They are all so... familiar. His head hurts. He's thinking of California for some reason.

He didn't even know California existed until just now. It's a place with palm trees. Maybe. Or is that...

_I'm from Fresno, ace._

His lips trace the words, fascinated. It makes him smile again and once more his cheeks hurt.

Then his smile fades. He should not be smiling. They will come for him and kill him, as they did the guards.

He listens hard as he hears them grunting and muttering together.

“The fuck is the Captain?”

“He's outside,” the British voice responds. The French man mutters and he hears boots stepping down the hallway. The French man ponders to himself quietly as he steps down the hall, toward the corner, toward forty-nine-twenty-thirty-four's cell.

He presses himself back against the cell wall and whines, then slaps his hand over his mouth, eyes wide. They'll find him and they'll... they'll gut him like they did the guards.

He doesn't want to die, oh please no, not like this. He doesn't want to get it in the gut.

He has an image of a thin, blonde man and tries to cling to it but it's gone and the next thing he knows the French man is pondering his way down the hall. He halts as someone calls to him.

He responds, informing them where he is, heading back in their direction.

Forty-nine-twenty-thirty-four breathes a sigh of relief, closing his eyes. He opens them when he hears footsteps stomping through rubble in another room. There's two voices – the one that called the French man, then another newcomer.

He has an image of a black man and a tall, heavy blonde. He can see the blonde scratching at his own scalp, pushing his helmet up as he speaks.

“Well it looks like some kind of research facility. You find anything, Dernier?”

“No. I didn't really look,” he responds in French.

More voices arrive and there's the man with the hat and the red hair... he thinks. He sounds like... Michigan? _Wisconsin._

Wisconsin?

Then there's... he thinks there's the British voice again, the black man, and the... the Japanese man. He _cannot_ be Japanese, that's ridiculous. He doesn't know how he knows this, but he knows that the Americans are fighting the Japanese along with the Germans.

He moves toward the barred door of his cell again, curious to peek. His breaths are cautious, slow pants through his parted lips as he gets closer to it.

They're all chattering and talking over eachother and he has a sudden urge to shout for them to shut up.

“Well I suppose we'd better search the premises then,” the ascot wearing British man – but how can he possibly know any of this? Is he hallucinating again? - heads down the hall, toward the corner.

Toward his cell.

He freezes, eyes wide. The British man comes around the corner and now forty-nine-twenty-thirty-four can see him.

He is not wearing an ascot. He's actually wearing a real knitted scarf this time. But the hat is still the same. And so is the mustache.

A word starts to form in his head and his head aches and he can't finish the word. He just stares through the bars. Then the British man turns to look down the hall to his right and their eyes meet.

He shoves himself back away from the cell door, scrambling back against the far wall with the tiny window. He breathes hard as he tries to press his left side into the wall. He shouldn't have moved. He shouldn't have been near the door!

“Hello hello!” The British man is heading in his direction. Oh God, he can't breathe. He can't breathe and they'll drag him out and they'll hose him or he'll get the electric stick again and boots and batons or the wire around his throat or the heavyset handler will hold him down and thrust into him, make him bleed-

“Anyone there? I could have sworn I saw you,” his voice is friendly and then his face appears on the other side of the bars, bending lower to look through the door, then into a crouch. “Are you a pris-”

He gasps and stays absolutely still. His eyes grow wide and he can't seem to breathe either.

Forty-nine-twenty-thirty-four stares at him and a whine escapes his teeth. He looks away, to the side, then back again. His eyes widen – he's not supposed to make noise! He's been so bad, they'll punish him now... he'll wet himself and they'll kick him for being disgusting.

No. They're dead.

He tries to breathe as he thinks of that. They're dead. The handlers are dead and gone.

It's a trick. It has to be. They're waiting to see what he'll do.

“Sergeant Barnes,” the British man's eyes are wet. He falls to his knees on the other side of the door and reaches to grab the bars.

 


	2. The big blonde man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve Rogers reunites with his best friend but Bucky doesn't recognize him.

The prisoner stares back, then glances away again and back once more.

“Morita!” He nearly jumps as the man shouts down the hall. “Morita! Jones! Oh God, Captain _Rogers!_ ”

Boots are hurrying down the hallway, echoing and he moans, pressing himself back into the hard wall. He whines because they're coming for him and their boots will connect hard with the soft places on his body and he's sorry, he is, for making noises and being bad.

He begins to wet himself and he sobs, turning himself away from the door so he won't wet on the man by accident.

He tries to stop himself from wetting but he's already let loose so it doesn't really matter except he's been holding a while and now his bladder aches.

“What is it?” Someone calls from the end of the hall, near the corner and they're approaching. It's Morita.

The British man is pale and points into the cell, apparently unable to speak.

“It's- it's Barnes!”

Silence follows for a moment.

“ _What?_ ”

The Japanese face appears in the corner of the door, brows furrowed, then his eyes slowly widen.

“Jesus Christ!” He cries. “Barnes!” he looks to the British man. “Why haven't you opened the damn door?”

He grabs the bars and begins to fumble with the latch.

“I-I don't think I can.” The British man tugs at the bars. “It's locked.”

Forty-nine-twenty-thirty-four whines and squeezes himself into the corner. He doesn't want to be gutted. He doesn't want to be punished for wetting himself. He's still trying to hold on to the rest of it but it hurts.

“Please no,” he begs, then his eyes widen. _Oh God, he said the word he wasn't supposed to!_ He sobs and tries to make himself small, knowing he's done it now.

“You need a key,” the British man sounds dazed, distant. He's just staring at forty-nine-twenty-thirty-four.

“Need a key!” Morita shouts at the next person coming around the hallway.

“Sergeant...” the British man looks distressed. “It's all right, Sarge...”

“Key? What for?”

“Just go find a key! There should be a key to this cell!” Then to forty-nine-twenty-thirty-four, he says “It's okay Barnes. We're getting you out of here.”

He avoids looking at the men and whimpers when he hears the man down the hall saying something about it must be on one of the bodies.

“Then search the fucking bodies!”

“All right!” the person sounds exasperated. It's the black man. Maybe.

How does he know? _How does he know any of this? How does he know these men? How did he guess their faces?_

“What the hell is going on?” the black man calls.

“It's fucking Barnes! He's here! Get Rogers!”

“Wh- _what?_ _Barnes?_ ”

“ _Get Rogers!_ ” They both shout and the other man's boots scuffle away. He hears the French man making bewildered noises and approaching.

“And find the goddamn key!” Morita adds, then looks directly at him. “It's okay, Barnesy. We're getting you...”

He falls silent, staring, then frowns. “Barnes? _Barnes_.”

Forty-nine-twenty-thirty-four glances between the two of them, sniffling.

“It's like he doesn't even recognize us.” The British man is still staring. The two men look at eachother, then back at him.

“That's impossible. Hey, hey Barnes. It's okay, pal. It's me. You know me... right?”

Forty-nine-twenty-thirty-four shakes his head quickly. He's relieved. He can tell the truth. He doesn't know these men.

“Yeah you do,” Morita looks almost offended. “Course you do, Barnes.” His voice softens and for a moment he looks as lost as the British man. His name starts with an M too, forty-nine-twenty-thirty-four thinks.

“God, this is unbelievable,” the British man says.

“Hey. Hey!” Morita snaps his fingers at the other man. “Wake up, okay. I can't have you wacking out on me too!” He looks to Bucky again. “Barnes. It's okay. We're not gonna hurt you, all right?”

He whines. They said that too, before they...

In the snow when they dragged him. They said they were going to help him. He fought. He should have fought harder he thinks.

His head is aching again and he groans.

“God, what have they done to him?”

“I don't know. We can't... not right now, Monty.”

Monty. His name is Monty!

He looks up at the British man slowly. Monty gives him a weak smile.

“Where the fuck are you assholes?” Morita shouts down the hall, losing his patience. Forty-nine-twenty-thirty-four swallows hard and looks away. He can hear the heavyset handler yelling at him and the boots come down on him...

He hears soft spoken French and then another pair of dark eyes is watching him when he looks up. An oath is uttered and the French man covers his mouth with his hand.

“ _Sergent_.”

He hears more boots coming and the sound of keys jangling arrives closer and closer.

“I'm comin, I'm comin! We got 'em!”

“You've got to be kidding me. It can't be...” That's Wisconsin. The one with the hat and the mustache. _Red._

“Bucky?” Someone is demanding, their steps heavy. “Where is he? Where is he...”

“Whoa whoa whoa, let's not block the hall.” Morita stands, hands up. “He's a little... overwhelmed.”

“Bucky?” the voice calls and something inside of him hurts.

“Oh God,” Monty says softly. “Captain, wait!”

“Toss me the keys, Jones-” Morita holds up his hands and catches the keys bound together with cord. They were on the heavyset guard's belt. Drechsler. That was his name.

He's dead now.

The French man stands and shuffles back, out of the way.

Boots shuffle. Morita fumbles with the keys and curses at the lock.

Another face appears in the doorway along with a wide set of shoulders and he's too big, he's way too big.

“Bucky?” A pale face crumples. “Oh _God_ , _Bucky_...”

“If I can get this fuckin door...”

“Just let me,” The big man grabs the bars and tugs, grunting. Morita sighs and drops the keys, leaning back.

“Watch out.” Morita raises an arm in front of Monty and they shuffle back.

The bars screech and then the door is removed from its hinges, brick and mortar dust crumbling and falling to the floor.

“Good job, Cap,” the redhaired man mutters, out of sight.

The door with the bars is mindlessly handed toward Morita and Monty who find themselves comically jailed in the corner of the hallway.

But forty-nine-twenty-thirty-four is just staring wide eyed at the man in the doorway.

He's _huge._

“Cap-” Morita is shifting around the metal bars. “He's not... He's not right.”

“Bucky,” the tall blonde man is crouching and staring at him in wonder. His chest hurts and it's hard to breathe. The blonde is smiling but it's sad. Then the blonde's smile fades as he takes in forty-nine-twenty-thirty-four's arm.

“Oh God,” he covers his mouth with a hand. His eyes quickly move to forty-nine-twenty-thirty-four's and he seems almost frozen. “Buck. Buck, I'm sorry. It's just- Here, Buck-”

“What the hell is going on?” Red, out of sight, demands.

“Come on. Let's get you out of there,” Rogers gestures with his fingers for forty-nine-twenty-fourty-three to come closer.

“Okay, yeah, medic here.” Morita speaks up. “I need everybody else to back down the hall and give me some room to work. Monty, if you would, take that door with you.”

“Of course,” the British man is still pale as he turns and hauls the metal barred door with him.

“How does he look?” he can hear Red. Monty says something in return quietly.

“Buck?”

He looks away from the blonde man, then back. He wet himself again when the blonde man crouched in the doorway. He's huge. He's just... he's not normal. No man is that size.

_Didn't you used to be smaller?_

“Bucky? Bucky, it's me-”

“Cap? I need you to look at me, okay?”

_He was skinny once. He was a little guy._

_Soft blonde hair that he would ruffle and a beak of a nose._

The blonde finally tears his eyes away to look at the Japanese man.

“I need you to go find Barnes something to wear. Can you do that?”

The blonde shakes his head. “I'm not. I can't.” He takes a deep breath, his brows setting. “I'm sorry, but I can't. I can't leave him-”

“It's fine. That's my mistake,” Morita looks past him down the hall and the blonde's deep blue eyes are focused intently on forty-nine-twenty-thirty-four again. He cringes into the wall and glances down. “Hey! One of you find Barnes something to wear?”

“Is he _naked_ in there?” Red calls. He then lets out a grunt of protest. Someone is hissing at him to be quiet. “Jesus, just askin'!”

His head aches and his chest hurts and it's hard to breathe. He just stares at the two men. The Japanese man is digging through a rucksack. The other men have moved down the hallway and are murmuring quietly.

“Bucky,” the captain, Rogers, tells him. He seems to be expecting something. Forty-nine-twenty-thirty-four knows he should respond somehow but isn't sure how. He blinks and swallows.

“Sir?” He croaks, not wishing to be punished.

The two men in the doorway freeze, both looking at him.

“Barnes?” Morita says.

“Bucky,” Steve smiles but it's fragile. “It's okay. It's us. It's... me.”

He shakes his head and looks down at his knees.

“Hey, Buck-” he reaches into the cell and forty-nine-twenty-thirty-four whines, flinches. He's not supposed to do those things but he can't help it, he's so scared, and the blonde is so big, his hands are huge, he's like the heavyset handler, he'll grab forty-nine-twenty-thirty-four and wrench his hair out or-

“Bad idea,” Morita takes his arm in hand and pulls it back. “Jesus, look, I know this is hard but ah...” He sighs. “Look, Steve, he's not doing well right now okay? He doesn't know you from Adam.”

“What? That's... Buck! Bucky, it's me!” The big paws head back to the man's own chest.

He slowly looks back at the man in the doorway. He shakes his head again. He doesn't know this man or any of these men.

“We need to get him out of that cell. For that to happen I need everyone to back off. That includes you, Steve.” Morita's words are apologetic and gentle.

“No. No, I...” The Captain looks lost. He stares at forty-nine-twenty-thirty-four and shakes his head. “I don't understand.”

“Yeah it's uh... it's fubar. But I need you to move down the hall,” his voice softens further as he puts a hand on the captain's shoulder.

The captain nods, his face falling into _Captain Rogers mode_. “Right,” he sounds resigned, then speaks to forty-nine-twenty-thirty-four again. “Buck, I'll be right down the hall, okay?” He forces a small curve to his lips that might be a smile, then slowly rises from his knees and moves down the hallway.

Forty-nine-twenty-thirty-four doesn't say anything. He just watches the man go, then looks to Morita. The man stares back at him quietly. When he speaks, it's in a whisper.

“Jesus, what have they done to you.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, go take a walk, Steve! Scared Bucky is scared.


	3. The Woman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another survivor of the battle is added to the group's number.

He reeks of piss but he's definitely Bucky. Steve can barely stand it. He just wants to wrap his friend in his arms but Bucky is like a skittish cat as he slips out of the cell in a crouch and takes the clothes from Morita. He remains hunched over slightly, as if expecting to be struck at any moment. And while they can't stop glancing at him, the others all pretend to look elsewhere. Steve can't take his eyes away, even while he knows he's making Bucky nervous but how can that _be?_ It's _Bucky_ for God's sake...

Dugan is outright staring as if he's seen something offensive. Then he blinks several times and looks away. His expression is dazed.

Bucky is looking at the clothes in his hands... hand... then up at Morita. Morita says something quietly to him and he looks down at himself, then glances up again fearfully.

“It's okay,” Morita is saying, his voice criminally gentle. If anyone had talked to Bucky like that in the old days he would have...

The old days.

Bucky is _here, alive, now_ , and it's so surreal. He should be grabbing his friend in his arms, whispering how sorry he is that he didn't grab him as he fell, telling him that he loves him and-

Steve stares at the stump, then looks away, pointedly focusing on Bucky's whole being.

He's pale, thinner than he was at Azzano, and covered in various bruises. His hair reaches his ears and looks greasy.

“Hey uh, is there a shower or something?” Morita calls. “A sink?”

“There's some kind of shower room down below. Near the barracks.”

There's silence for a moment as they look at eachother.

“Fucking assholes.”

“Let's just let their bodies rot,” Dugan's eyes are ablaze and Steve nods once, curtly. He wants to let himself be wrapped up in righteous anger, but his heart is trampled and broken. It's down the hall with Bucky.

Bucky. _Alive. Here._

Bucky, with his ribs showing and large gray blue eyes, gaunt and bruised and covered in his own piss.

God, but if Steve could murder these men again... _If only they'd killed them slowly._

He forces a small smile when he catches Bucky watching him.

“Hey Buck.” He says as evenly as he can manage. “It's all right. You're safe now.”

“Come on, Sarge. Let's get you washed up,” Morita herds Bucky down the hall and they all step back, moving out of the way.

Dugan nods to Bucky though he looks physically sick. Monty smiles at him and turns, heading down the hall. They form a phalanx, guarding him as he steps cautiously down the hallway, slightly hunched over and holding the clothes to his chest with his arm. Steve hopes it makes him feel safe.

But he's probably used to being surrounded by guards now.

“Oh what I am doing?” He begins to tug off his own jacket. Bucky must be _freezing._

It catches up with him as he's handing his coat to Morita to put over Bucky's shoulders and then he's covering his mouth with a hand and turning away, gagging.

 

“Cap?” Morita stops and the others halt. “Shit.”

He coughs and shakes his head, lets out a sob, then begin to gag again and vomits in the hallway.

Even Bucky has turned and is staring at him and shit, it would be funny if it wasn't so damn _fucked up._

Bucky's eyes are wide and he seems perplexed. Then Steve is standing and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. His face is already red but he feels like it's about to go puce.

“I'm fine. I'm fine. Sorry. Let's just get out of here,” he nods to Morita who nods back.

“Come on! You heard Cap. He needs some fresh air.” Morita holds the coat up in both of his hands and turns to Bucky. “Hey Sarge. I'm gonna put this on your shoulders, okay?”

Bucky looks up at him and nods as they walk, and the coat is draped over him. He seems to huddle into it. Steve tries to focus on that instead of the fact that Bucky is stark naked and his ass and thighs are covered in bruises. Some _son of a bitch_ took his clothes away and _left_ him to _freeze_ on the floor of a concrete cell.

He gathers himself and his thoughts as they hurry through the hall and turn right. They step over and past the fallen bodies of the guards, Dugan kicking a heavyset one and Dernier spitting on another. Bucky slows and seems to be staring wide eyed at them. He glances up at the others, then at the guards again.

“It's okay, Sarge. They can't hurt you anymore,” Gabe tells him.

Steve nods. When Morita gently urges them onward, Steve spits on the heavyset guard that Gabe grabbed the keys from. He'd been outside when Dugan had come running, shouting about Bucky.

 

They go right, down the stairs and into another hallway. They turn left into the broad entry hall and go through the blasted wooden doors into the daylight.

Bucky slows as he steps on the gravel. His feet are bare for God's sake. Steve swears and starts to remove his boots but Jones shakes his head, holding something out to Bucky.

“No need, Cap. Here we go. I got you some boots, Sarge.” He seems to realize then that Bucky only has one arm and his face falls. “Oh. Uh, right. I'll hold them for you till we get to the showers.”

Steve takes a deep breath, trying to clear his head again.

They need to wrap things up here. He follows the others to the showers, letting Dugan and Dernier take point. Monty is glancing up at the rooftops, the way Bucky would...

Bucky would. Bucky will. He's right here and-

And Steve doesn't have time to be emotional right now. He blinks against his hot eyes.

“I think it's here,” Jones is saying as they walk up to a long, narrow building. It's the showers all right. The barracks are next door – they just passed them. The doors of the barracks are wide open, blood all over the floor because one of the bastards bled out after Morita slit their throat. Morita's gotten good at using Bucky's dagger. Steve hadn't had the heart to keep it, couldn't stand looking at it.

Now he can give it back to Bucky. Later, sure. They'll set up camp and...

He needs to talk to Morita. Bucky doesn't look like he can travel far in his condition. He'll probably protest, say he's fine-

No, he won't. He won't protest. Because he's incredibly meek right now and it's all so, so wrong.

“Let's make sure it's clear,” Steve says as they approach the shower room doors. “I know you swept it earlier, but...”

“We got it, Cap,” Jones tells him and hands the boots to Morita. Jones, Dernier, and Dugan take point, sweeping through the shower again. No shots are fired. The coast is clear.

Monty and Steve are looking around, covering behind them, Steve embarrassed that he allowed himself to zone out on the walk here. There could have been snipers on the roof.

Fortunately for them, they've already been taken out by Dernier who shot a rocket into the tower. Steve's stomach twists, grateful to whatever God is out there that Bucky's cell wasn't hit.

_Oh God, thank you God, praise you. Praise Mary and all the saints._

They wait in the doorway of the showers, leaning around the wall or sitting on the stoop as Morita works with Bucky. Steve leans on a wall outside, eyes regarding the roof of the building they found Bucky in. He should have known the moment he saw it that it was some kind of fortress hell hole.

He'd cleared a lab in it earlier, with Dernier and Jones at his side. Dernier has since gone off with Dugan to search the building for intelligence – anything that might be able to tell them what was done to Bucky.

He closes his eyes and sighs, lowering his head.

“He can't travel like this,” Jones murmurs to his left and Steve nods. “Better if we just set up here for the night.”

“I'm not,” Steve starts, then takes a deep breath and exhales. “I don't want him to spend another night in that goddamn building.”

Jones nods. “I'll agree with that, but-”

“It's not advisable to have him walking miles in his condition in this weather,” Monty says. “We should at least give him some time to rest. A few hours...”

“I know,” Steve sighs, nodding. “You're both right. I'm sorry, I-”

“Cap,” Jones looks at him sympathetically. “We know. Believe me. If I could burn these motherfuckers to the ground again, I would.”

“Tell me about it,” Monty scoffs and then grows serious. “What we can do is clean out the barracks and rest there for the night.”

“That sounds like a plan.”

“The barracks will be easier to defend than that building,” Jones muses, looking up at it. “It's not structurally sound anymore anyway.”

“I don't think it's advisable to sleep anywhere that Dernier has set charges up in anyway,” Monty smiles.

Steve's lip curl into a weak smile. They're saying all this for him and Buck. The building is probably a better choice for cover in case Hydra's back up comes along; even with the tower blasted to shit, most of it is still in one piece.

“Two of us can take up in the building,” Jones says. “The rest of us in the barracks. That way, we've got the road covered.”

The small fortress is situated on a mountain, a winding road heading up to it. They had to clear the way up the road by dark of night and then attack at dawn. Steve highly doubts that there will be any backup this far out into the wilderness. There's only a little town about a mile away and he's almost certain the folk there will be relieved to have the Nazis out of their hair.

He nods. “That sounds like a plan.”

“I can take first watch,” Jones offers. Steve smiles.

“Thank you.”

Jones shrugs and salutes.

“I'll get started cleaning out the barracks.” Monty offers.

“I'll come with you.” Jones says, looking to Steve. “You got it covered here, Cap?”

“I do,” Steve nods, looking to his right, past the buildings and toward the forest. “If anyone shows up... I'll take care of them.”

_You bet I'll take care of them, the fucking bastards._

Jones nods, lips stretching at one corner in a smile, then salutes again. Monty nods to Steve and the two head to the barracks. They'll have to haul the bodies out, but Steve thinks there weren't many in the barracks anyways. They can just wash the blood off the floor with some buckets of water. He won't feel any guilt this time, he thinks, if he runs into personal effects.

“There we go,” Morita says behind him and Steve turns to look through the door. Bucky is being helped into the boots now. He's shivering slightly but he has a uniform on. Unfortunately, it's a Nazi uniform, but they're all wearing such a mish mash of drab olive and gray at this point that it will hardly be noticeable unless Bucky wears a kraut helmet. Morita helps him slide his single arm into Steve's coat which is huge on his slender frame, before securing the belt on it to keep it from sliding off.

He smiles at Bucky as Morita herds him along to the door. The boots are a little loose but Morita apparently gave Bucky his extra socks so he's warmly dressed. He looks much better now that he's cleaner and dressed, though it's obvious the clothes are too large for his gaunt figure. Steve is painfully reminded that their roles have switched place; Bucky is the little guy now.

It's fine. He'll take care of Buck. He's bigger and stronger now. Buck took care of him so many times. Steve holds out a hand as he steps aside to let them pass.

“Come on, Buck,” he glances around again, making sure he doesn't see any hostiles.

Then he hears shots and he stiffens before throwing himself in the doorway, his back to the others as he pulls his shield off his back and his pistol out. Morita drops as well, tugging Bucky down with him and Bucky stiffens but follows suit, huddling in a crouch.

The sounds came from the building. To his left, Jones and Monty are crouched near the barracks, their weapons out. They'd just gotten done dumping the bodies in the woods and were returning to finish their clean up.

Steve eyes the blasted, heavy wooden doors of the building, then looks to Monty who is gesturing to him.

What the hell is going on?

Steve shrugs and gestures back. He has no clue.

“Think they found somebody inside?” Morita asks, his hand on Bucky's shoulder.

“Possible,” Steve frowns. He should have had the others clear the building. He cannot afford to be distracted as their leader.

Dugan appears in the doorway, looking a little rumpled but no worse for wear.

“Well we found some more fuckers hiding in the basement,” Dugan says when they're gathered together again. Steve had waited a few minutes in the doorway of the bath house until Dernier appeared from the building, a woman in tow.

“Who is she?” Steve asks.

“Babe, isn't she?” Dugan waggles his eyebrows. Steve raises an eyebrow then looks to Dernier who seems to be chatting with the woman. It turns out she can speak French. He looks to Gabe who seems to be listening intently.

“She's a local,” Gabe informs him. “Probably...”

Dernier's voice rises and the woman's eyes are hard as she answers, her voice sharp and... defensive.

“What's going on,” Steve says flatly. He doesn't care about this woman. He knows it's a bad thought to have, but it's how he feels. He's worried about Bucky and he can't bring himself to care about anything else. But he's a Captain and he has to handle the situation.

“She's um... she's a collaborator,” Jones says carefully with a wince. Dugan spits and turns around to look at the woman properly.

“The hell? Shoot her.”

“We are not shooting an unarmed woman,” Monty says, even if he's got a sour expression.

“Why not? I don't have time to keep an eye on her,” Morita grumbles.

Steve sighs. “We will question her and keep an eye on her until we leave. At that point, we'll escort her to the town.”

“We're going into town?” Morita looked up warily.

“We can at least leave her there,” Steve says. “Though I would like to see if we can get any supplies.”

“And the Nazis?” Dugan raises an eyebrow.

Steve shrugs. “We clear them out. They can go fuck themselves.”

The others look at him in silence. Bucky is glancing around the group with his wide eyes. As Steve watches, Bucky's eyes settle on him, glancing down shyly before looking up again.

“What else have they done here,” Steve murmurs, looking to the others. “What other inhumane shit has Hydra been doing in this town?”

“That's not really part of our mission, Captain,” Monty says, though he looks to the others.

“True,” Steve nods. “But I think we have a responsibility to make sure Hydra doesn't have any other roots in this town.”

“I don't have any problem taking out some more squids,” Dugan grouses before looking to Dernier. “What's the lady think about that?”

Dernier looks like he wants to spit on the lady but he merely glares at her.

She has light brown hair in curls and brown eyes that regard him warily as he speaks. She replies in oddly accented French. She's Austrian, and pretty with high, delicate cheekbones. But Steve suddenly despises her. She's wearing a dress, nice heels, and a coat.

She was living comfortably while Bucky was suffering nearby. Does she even have any shame or decency in her soul?

He knows that in France women sometimes collaborated with Nazis but they usually did so out of hunger or desperation. He can forgive desperation; he saw plenty of that growing up. But this woman doesn't look desperate.

She's talking rapidly in French. Dernier looks annoyed, like he'd rather not speak to her. Gabe, it seems, is taking over, and the woman regards Gabe and Morita curiously. He notices that she also keeps glancing up at Steve as if she's caught on that he's the leader. Then again, Steve gets a lot of stares from locals whenever the Howlies are on a mission.

“What's her name?” Steve finally asks.

Gabe speaks to her. He looks to Steve, frowning. “Greta.”

“Greta,” Steve says, looking at her. “If you cooperate with us and give us the information we need, we won't shoot you and dump you in the forest with the rest of the human garbage.”

Dugan coughs, trying to hide his laughter. Monty also looks like he's having a hard time keeping a straight face. Morita tilts his head to one side, eyebrows rising for a moment.

Gabe seems to be translating rather well because Greta's eyes widen slightly. She begins to speak quickly after that and eventually Dernier and Jones have to reassure her into silence.

She glares at Steve before glancing away, pulling her coat tighter around herself.

“Human garbage is one way to put it,” Dugan grumbles approvingly.

“All right. Morita, you can go ahead and set Bucky up in the barracks. Dugan, you two find any intelligence?”

“Intelligence?” Monty jokes. “In Hydra?”

Morita gives and dry chuckle, nods to Steve, then begins to escort Bucky toward the barracks. They all watch the two head into the smaller building. Bucky stays back, skittishly peering into the building with the same cat-like mien he exited his cell.

Cage, Steve thinks. It was more of a cage.

“No intelligent life,” he huffs. “But it looks like the tower was headquarters-”

“I regret nothing,” Dernier says.

“Wasn't saying you should,” Dugan smirks. “There were some papers left. We grabbed 'em and I got 'em in my pack.”

“Great.”

“There was more in the basement,” Dernier tells him. He can speak some English but it's still fairly basic and heavily accented. “Papers on the tables. One man with ah,” he gestured toward his own chest and shoulders. “Medals.”

“Probably one of their bosses,” Dugan adds. “Dernier got him in the face. That's where we found uh, Greta here.” Dugan winks at her and she frowns at the dirt below.

“Anything useful from the lady?” Steve feels that 'lady' is probably pushing it. But he's a captain. He has to be professional.

She says the town is loyal to SS and if we go there they shoot us. She says they will fight to the last man.” Dernier sneers.

Steve scoffs. He looks to Dugan who shrugs, then Gabe and Monty, shaking his head.

“Ask her how many able bodied men are in this village.”

Dernier speaks to her. She responds quietly, frowning.

“She says a hundred.”

“She's a fucking liar,” Dugan responds. “That town isn't big enough for a hundred. I doubt there's even fifty people down there.”

“I'm not looking to go in guns blazing,” Steve murmurs, looking toward the barracks.

“May I speak plainly, Captain?” Monty speaks up.

Steve nods. “Of course.”

“I don't think it's a good idea to go to the town. Not with Sergeant Barnes in this condition.”

“Yeah, I'm not too keen on it myself,” Dugan says. “Don't get me wrong – like I said, I have no problem taking out some more squids.”

Steve nods.

“The town houses more soldiers,” Dernier is talking to the woman again and Gabe translates her responses.

“Why didn't she mention that earlier?” Steve frowns. Dernier has raised his voice and Greta's voice raises as well.

“She says there aren't many. Fifteen maximum.”

“Still fifteen too many,” Dugan muses.

“And they'll probably be heading up this way soon,” Monty says, glancing toward the road. “Shit.”

“Unless they're cowards.”

“I doubt we'll be that fortunate.”

“They could be cowards,” Dugan sounds hopeful.

“Either way, we'll probably have company before long,” Steve sighs. “All right. New plan. I think we should get everyone in the main building. If we get visitors we don't want to be stretched out. Jones, take position on the roof if you will. Dernier, did you set the charges yet?”

Dernier chuckles.

“I can take them apart.”

“Might be the best idea. I'm putting you three in charge of Greta here. Take her inside, make sure she doesn't wander off. Dugan, I'm sure you and Dernier already checked she's not armed?”

“Hell yeah,” Dugan spits while Dernier mutters “Of course!” and looks offended.

“Just making sure. I'll go get Morita and tell him the plan's changed.”

The Howling Commandos split up, heading in different directions.

Greta is silent as Dugan and Dernier lead her back into the building.

Steve keeps his shield out as he heads to the barracks. It's not far at all from the main building, but he makes sure to keep alert as he moves. The people in town may have already heard the explosions and hostiles might be approaching. He doesn't know what kind of transportation the soldiers in town will have, but it's possible they have cars or trucks.

“Morita.”

Bucky is reclining on one of the bunks, propped up by pillows, his hand in his lap. Steve almost feels guilty that he's making his friend move. Especially into the same damn building where he was-

He can't think about that right now.

Morita is taking Bucky's pulse at his throat, using his fingertips.

“What's going on out there with the dame?”

“Apparently there are more soldiers in town.”

Morita's eyes bulge as he looks up.

“What? How many more?”

“About fifteen. I'm thinking we should all take refuge in the main building in case-”

“No shit! Sorry, Cap, but Jesus-”

“It's my fault. I should have questioned her the moment I saw her.”

“That's not on you,” Morita is already stuffing things back into his bag. He looks to Bucky. “You want to go with Cap, buddy?”

Bucky looks from Morita to Steve.

“Come on, Buck. You can take the blanket with you.”

Bucky rises from the narrow bed, tugging the blanket up with him and bundling it in his arms.

“Good idea,” Morita grabs some of the pillows as well. “I found another kit in here, some chocolate bars... Bottle of cider too!”

Steve smiles slightly as Morita hands him the cider. He uncorks the bottle and sniffs.

“Apfelwein.”

“Apfelwhat?”

“Apple cider. I hear it's traditional for these parts.” Steve looks to Bucky. “Want some cider, Buck?”

Bucky looks down at the blanket, shaking his head.

“Okay,” Steve corks it. “Well we can have some later anyway. Let's get going.”

He checks the horizon at the door, then nods to Morita who follows warily.

“You think they're here already?”

“They had to have heard the explosions. I don't know how loyal they're feeling in particular to Hydra but...”

“Yeah. Never can tell with these assholes,” Morita puts a hand on his rifle after shifting the pillows to his other arm. Bucky follows them, eyes scanning the forest.

“Go ahead,” Steve stands at the double doors, motioning for them to head into the entry hall. Morita stops to wait for Bucky to head in, then follows him.

Monty has taken position in the entry hall and watches Bucky as he enters. Bucky looks nervous and Steve hates himself for making him come back in this damn place.

“Any beds in this place?” he asks Monty, handing him the cider.

“What on earth is this?” Monty looks amused. “Hm? No, I haven't seen any.”

“Apfelwein. Cider. It was in the barracks.”

“Ooh!”

“Yeah, I grabbed some pillows too,” Morita heads down a hallway and inspects a room. “This looks good. No windows.”

“I'd suggest the basement but there's blood.” Monty frowns.

“If we're going to bunk, I think we should set up camp on the second floor,” Steve advises. “These doors aren't going to hold anyone out now.

“True.” Monty frowns. “Though we can always use furniture to block this off,” he gestures to the double doors, practically hanging off their hinges.

“As long as we aren't trapping ourselves. Where are the other exits?” He glances to Dernier who is coming down the stairs.

“Captain. I think there is something you should see.”

“Just a moment.” Steve tells him and looks to Monty.

“There are two others – the one Dugan and I entered to the northeast, and the one closest to the road, northwest. They're small.”

“We block off the northeast exit and post a guard at the other two.” Steve said after some consideration. “We can go ahead and form a barricade for this one too. The harder we make it for them to get in here, the better.”

“I'm on it,” Monty said.

“Where's Dugan and the woman?”

“Upstairs,” Dernier gestures with his thumb behind him.

“All right. What did you have to show me?”

Morita follows, guiding Bucky along. Bucky looks increasingly nervous as they mount the steps when Steve glances back. They reach the second floor hallway and Dernier leads Steve around a corner to a hall on the left, and into the first room on the left. Morita stays with Bucky in the hallway, talking softly to him.

“What the...” Steve is looking at some kind of... dentist's chair. He steps closer to it.

The room has a stone floor despite that the hallway's floor is wood. It's colder in here and it looks like some kind of laboratory.

“What am I looking at?” he looks to Dernier who is standing near some complicated controls. Dernier is eyeing the chair with something akin to disgust.

“Dugan and I find this earlier. I do not know what it does but there is this switch,” he points to a massive switch in a box on the wall. Then he points at the strange headrest of the chair. “There is electricity.”

“It's an electric chair?” Steve stares at him, then looks to the headrest of the evil looking chair. There are straps for wrists on the armrests-

“Oh God,” he covers his lips with his hand as Dugan nods.

He can too easily see Bucky's frail form strapped into the chair. They did this to him.

Suddenly he wants to grip Greta's pretty, slender neck in his hands and crush it, but he contains himself and takes a deep breath.

“Right. We're bunking on the first floor.” He turns to go.

“Captain?” Dernier calls.

“Yes?”

“There are more papers here.”

“Go ahead and collect them. We'll have to wait until we get back to base to figure out what any of this means.”

Steve doesn't really want to think about it in the meantime.

 

 


	4. Memory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve tries to talk to Bucky as the Howling Commandos settle in for the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe I haven't updated this thing since October! That is just crazy.   
> Thank you for all the positive comments! I'm glad people are enjoying this story. 
> 
> This chapter includes brief mentions of past consensual hetero sex as well as mentions of past sexual abuse and fawning behavior.

They set up camp in the windowless room Morita found on the first floor. It looks like it was probably used as someone's office. Morita shoves the desk against the wall where he sets up his med kit.

Steve lays out his bedroll for Bucky and they toss the pillows onto it. Bucky is invited, then instructed to lie down. Steve wishes he had something better to offer his friend, but this is it.

_At least it's better than that -_

_No. Don't think about that._

Bucky accepts a K-ration silently though he only begins to eat when Morita instructs him to. He keeps glancing nervously from the food up to them and it's too much. It's breaking Steve's heart. Steve forces another weak smile, then turns and leaves the room.

He passes Greta, who is sitting demurely in a corner of the room in a chair by the desk.

As soon as he's in the hallway, he's running his fingers through his hair.

“Little help?” Monty calls. He's shoving a bookcase against the doors which have been closed – as well as they can be – and barred. It disturbingly reminds Steve of the former occupants who tried to barricade themselves inside. But they can't leave in this snow and there's nowhere else for them to go anyway except marching back toward base which is at least twenty miles away.

“Sure,” his face flushes. He should be helping the others.

Steve assists Monty in moving another bookcase along with a desk, a table, and a chest of drawers to create a barricade. When they feel that the doors are sufficiently blocked, Monty turns to look at the tall mirror thoughtfully.

“That would be useful if we had more sunlight.”

“It would, wouldn't it?” Steve smiles, remembering the time Jones and Dugan used a mirror to blind hostiles on a truck. They'd the caused the driver to go into the ditch.

“Perhaps I'll take it up to Jones in case we do get some light.”

“I'm sure he could use some cider,” Steve winked at him.

“I'll take over for a bit up top, give him a break.”

“That too.” The captain nods. “Thank you, Monty.”

“It's no trouble.” The British man turns and heads to the left, toward a spiraling stone staircase that heads up into the building. He stops and looks at Steve. “How is he?”

“He's... comfortable. Eating.”

He doesn't even know how to explain how Bucky is and that's when it occurs to him that this is probably the first time in a series of many times he'll have to tell people. He'll have to tell Peggy and Howard and they'll be happy that Bucky's alive. Then they'll be horrified at his condition. He's almost ashamed for his friend just thinking about it. Bucky would have rather died than anyone see him like this.

But he'll also have to tell Bucky's family that he's alive... and how will they feel when they actually see him? Will he even be able to speak to them? How is Bucky even going to get home?

Monty nods to him then adds as if he can see Steve thinking, “I'm sure he'll be arguing with Dugan again in no time.”

“I'm sure,” Steve nods, his lips stretching at one corner in a weak attempt at a smile.

Monty turns and heads to the stairs and Steve takes watch in the entry hall, slipping his shield back on his back in the special harness Howard created for it.

He thinks about Peggy and the last time they saw eachother at the base. His heart warms as he takes the compass out and looks at her picture, smiling a little.

He wonders what she would say about Greta. It never occurred to him to ask her opinion of such women but it was her who informed him that sometimes women collaborated with the Nazis in France. Peggy helped the French resistance. She hadn't sounded bitter or upset about it when she mentioned it, not even disgusted. When he asked what happened to those women, she'd smiled wryly and told him their heads were usually shaved and their foreheads marked with a Nazi symbol. He said it sounded harsh and she'd merely shrugged.

Now he thinks it's almost appropriate.

He knows that Peggy would probably want Steve to look at the bright side of things. To just be happy he has his friend back.

He is. But there's a wild fury beating deep inside of him like the heart of an animal and he doesn't know what to do about it but ignore it for the time being.

* * *

 

Forty-nine-twenty-thirty-four or “Bucky” eats the crackers from the ration hungrily. Morita apologizes that they don't have anything better, offering him a chocolate bar, but they taste fine to him. Usually he gets some kind of broth, if the guards decide to feed him at all.

Sometimes, if he got on his knees for the heavyset guard Drechsler and took the guard's cock in his mouth, he would get some bread afterward.

Morita reminds him to eat slowly and “Bucky” as they're calling him (he didn't realize at first that this was supposed to be his codename but he's adapted to it now) only eats one square of chocolate. His stomach is already full after the crackers.

Morita tells him he can smoke the cigarettes if he likes, so he takes one out and studies it. He remembers... being slapped. Cigarettes that glowed near his face and burned him, burned his thighs. His hand trembles.

After a few moments, he sticks it between his lips. He twirls it a little with his lips, almost amused. Morita notices him toying with it and offers to light it. Bucky blinks, nervous, then nods. His eyelids flutter as Morita leans in and lights it. Bucky inhales slowly and the other man smiles a little.

“There you go, pal.” He pockets his lighter, then turns and heads back over to his medical supplies.

Bucky takes the cigarette from between his lips with his fingers.

“Thank you.”

Morita smiles at him over his shoulder.

“Don't mention it.”

It seems his body remembers cigarettes well. After a few deep breaths, he finds it pacifying.

 

He's in a dance hall and there's a beautiful girl spinning on the floor with some guy who's pretty good at dancing. He eyes her legs as her skirt flies up. God, she's got red panties on and he can see garters too. He knows he's not the only one looking either. She's got black, curly hair and cheery blue eyes. Bucky gets the feeling she's a little older than most of the girls in here and he's starting to get excited at the thought of parting her legs and seeing what she knows.

He likes the older girls, the grown women. The ones who know what they're doing.

This looks like the type of girl who might get on her knees for you and she wouldn't find it dirty at all. Confident. Bucky eyes her legs as her dance partner flips her over his shoulder.

He glances over at Stevie who's sitting by the wall, reading the damn book again. He rolls his eyes. Time to go run interference.

 

He's smoking a cigarette while a woman with tawny curls and full lips eyes him from down on her knees, her eyes the blue of an Alpine lake. She's got a face unlike anything Bucky's ever seen. These European women, he can never have enough of them. Nothing wrong with good ol fashioned American girls but God, the faces and cheekbones on some of these French gals.

Her name is Audrey and she's actually from Alsace but she fled here along with a friend because she didn't want to fuck Nazis.

Instead, she's blowing Bucky and smiling up at him. The wind ruffles her hair and she pulls her cardigan a little tighter around herself as she leans in and begins mouthing at his cock again. He wants to put his fingers in her soft looking curls but he doesn't want to scare her. So he carefully brushes some of the curls back from her face.

They're out in the garden of some house where she lives with some other girls.

They are fleeting images, impressions of times and places, blurs of people and their faces in the background. Mostly, they are emotions and color.

 

A house full of laughing young women; it seems like a dream to Forty-nine-twenty-thirty-four. His heart beats faster at the images in his head; a room full of dancing, excited youth, red panties, Alpine lake eyes, a mouth on the head of his cock teasing it.

He feels dizzy and elated at the rush. He thinks he'll have to smoke more cigarettes, except the dizziness is not so pleasant. He sets the cigarette down on the concrete floor, then picks up the canteen nearby and has another sip of water. It feels luxurious to be able to drink as much water as he likes, sit on a soft bedroll and eat chocolate - to smoke cigarettes and wear clothes. He even has boots and socks on.

He returns the cigarette to his lips.

“You okay, pal?” Morita is watching him with a frown. He nods. He glances to the woman sitting in the corner. Greta. She's pretty but she has a sort of hardness to her eyes that Forty-nine- that _Bucky_ doesn't find attractive. He wonders if the guards ever beat her or put her in the chair. Did Drechsler have her suck his cock? Bucky feels sorry for her if so. Greta is eyeing the chocolate bar, occasionally glancing to it and then back to the floor.

He looks down at the chocolate, picking it up and holding it out to her. Maybe she will smile for him if he gives her the chocolate? It would be a pretty smile, he thinks, and nice to see. He curves his own lips encouragingly as well as he can around the cigarette.

“Sch...schokolade?” he asks. Morita's eyebrows raise and he laughs, startling Bucky slightly.

“Did you really just... Oh, boy. That's great. Atta boy, Buck!” Morita is smiling as he claps, so Bucky relaxes. He is not angry. “You're comin' back all right!” The other man winks at him and turns back to his medical supplies, shaking his head and chuckling.

He looks to the woman but she is frowning at him, rather sourly. Perplexed, he lowers his arm with the chocolate. Perhaps she doesn't want to walk over to him?

He puts the cigarette out on the concrete floor and pushes himself up from the bedroll, walking over to hold the chocolate out to her, still staying a respectful distance away. She eyes the chocolate, then looks up to him. Her face is heart shaped. The Germans, dead they may be, had good taste.

Morita sees him up and frowns, but then sees the chocolate held out and huffs, shaking his head as he turns back to his supplies again. Greta cautiously reaches out and takes a piece of chocolate, pressing it between her lips. She's eyeing Bucky curiously now, sizing him up.

He knows this look from somewhere. Girls gave it to him in a city by the sea. _Protector? Provider? He's cute._

She smiles a little at him and winks. His lips curl at one corner. Schokolade makes a woman smile apparently.

 

“Dames love chocolate, Stevie. Chocolate, flowers - diamonds if you can get 'em.”

“Ha, where 'm I gonna get diamonds, Buck? And I don't even have change for a solitary flower. Don't think I've ever even _seen_ a diamond.”

“My Ma's got one,” Bucky lowers his voice as he looks around. “Pop gave it to her for their anniversary one year. Told me it used to be his Ma's.”

“Your Pop's folks were rich though.”

 

His family used to be... rich? They had diamonds. Bucky doesn't remember what a diamond looks like. He knows that they shine. He thinks he remembers a woman with brown hair insisting she wouldn't wear the necklace around, except on special occasions at home. She couldn't risk anyone seeing it. People were desperate these days.

He wonders if Greta has ever had diamonds. She would look lovely in them. He thinks that she will always have that sharp look in her eyes, even if she does have diamonds.

He offers her the rest of the chocolate bar which she accepts after a few moments of hesitation, holding it in her lap.

Then he nods to her and returns to his bedroll. He feels comfortable and for a moment, he thinks he should offer her the bedroll too. A lady should be comfortable, he remembers someone telling him. The woman with the brown hair, maybe. The diamond pendant. His mother.

His mother. He had – has? He has a mother.

He closes his eyes, picturing her. He can almost see her face. She has laugh lines at the corners of her eyes even though she's not old. She's young for a mother, not as young as Stevie's mother maybe, but...

Stevie.

The little blonde became the big blonde man. But is that correct? That doesn't sound right.

There was a machine involved and a scientist. Bucky shudders. He hopes the little blonde wasn't put in a chair like he was.

 

“Steve was little,” he muttered to himself, frowning.

Morita glances toward him.

“Huh?”

The soldier flinches, knowing he shouldn't have spoken.

“I'm sorry.”

“It's okay, Sarge. You want me to get Rogers for ya?”

Bucky shakes his head. He's not ready to talk to the Captain; he's still scared of the man and his large hands that could probably break a man's neck. But he senses the man is gentle and would not harm him. He feels something in his chest when he looks at the Captain that feels warm but hurts too.

“No. Thank you.”

You should always say thank you, it's polite. He doesn't know how he knows this. But he's wearing clothes and eating and smoking so he should also be polite. He didn't do these things in the cell with the Germans. But if he's supposed to do these things now, he wants to do them right.

It's exhausting.

“You don't gotta thank me,” Morita looks embarrassed as he turns back to his medical supplies. He sighs as he looks at the woman. He tips a hand toward his mouth in a drinking motion.

“Wasser?”

“Bitte,” she nods, looking pleasantly surprised. Morita hands her a canteen and she takes it and drinks from it, eyes closing. Bucky eyes her throat with interest as she swallows. He likes her eyebrows, her temples.

Something about women's temples and... Stevie has big eyes but it's because his face is so little.

“You feelin' all right over there, Romeo?” Morita calls, his back to Bucky. Bucky nods, then remembers Morita can't see him.

“Yes, sir.”

Morita barks a laugh.

“You don't call me sir, Sarge. You call me Morita or Jimmy.” The medic glances back at him with a smile. Bucky smiles too and his cheeks hurt once again. “You used to call me Mori too.”

He looks over to see Greta watching him. She looks away, smiling shyly as he notices her.

* * *

 

It's been two hours since they found Bucky, Steve thinks, and nothing has happened. He's getting bored watching the hall. He decides to look out one of the narrow, barred windows but he doesn't see much. The glass is frosted or covered in snow. His job isn't really to play lookout anyway, he's just keeping an eye on the doors.

It's cold in the building and he worries about Bucky. Maybe he should sit next to him? Offer to help him stay warm?

He smiles slightly as he recalls the way he used to keep Bucky warm by sharing a tent with him at night. How Bucky used to keep him warm once upon a time in Brooklyn. Bucky used to worry for him in Brooklyn, and after Steve found him in the prison camp, he was the one fussing about Bucky's health.

His stomach growls so he goes to his pack by the hall that leads to the small office Morita, Bucky, and Greta are in, and the kitchen. He realizes they didn't really search the kitchen for much and frowns.

When Gabe comes down the narrow staircase from the roof, relieved by Monty, Steve waves him over.

“Did anyone look in the kitchen? Search for supplies?”

“No,” Jones shakes his head. “I don't think we had time to search it yet.”

He has some snowflakes on his shoulders and ice crusting his boots. They'll have to make sure whoever is up top is relieved on a regular basis if the weather keeps up. Then again, they may not even have to worry about the Nazis in town if the weather continues to worsen; it's not likely they'll risk an attack in these conditions.

“Would you go ahead and do that? And then you can rest for a while if you like.”

Gabe smiles slightly. “Sure thing, Cap.” He heads past Steve down the hall, waving to Morita and Bucky as he passes, then toward the kitchen. Steve considers having Morita come watch the entry hall so he can go check on Dernier and Dugan guarding the other exits, but the medic probably deserves some rest too and if either of them need anything, they'll probably come find their captain. Steve can take over for either of them when they need to rest. He's tired, but he has more energy than the average man and he can stay on his feet for longer if necessary.

His stomach growls again, reminding him of why he thought of the kitchen in the first place. Steve rifles through the pack, finding a ration and tugging it out. He sits down Indian style and opens it, pleased to find that it's a meat and potatoes type of meal. After eating for a few minutes and listening to the silence settling all around the building, he hears Gabe stepping back down the hall.

“Well I got good news,” Jones says. “Found some meat in the ice box.”

“Ooh,” Steve sits up, eyes widening. “What kind?”

“Looks like flank steak,” Jones smiles. “There's also some real bread and a whole hunk of cheese. They got jelly too.”

“Jelly!” Steve smiles slowly and the other man lets out a soft laugh. “That'll be good for breakfast. Find any tea or coffee?”

“I did find some loose tea in a can along with a tin of biscuits.”

“Well I think we'll be having a feast at some point here,” Steve finishes his ration. He's always hungry these days. Even when he packs extra rations, it just never seems to be enough. But he never let any of it get him down in the past – the cold, the hunger, those things were familiar. It wasn't until he lost Buck...

And now he has Bucky back again. Only Bucky doesn't even remember who he is...

It hurts. Hydra took him away in more ways than one and Steve thinks the anger of what was done to Bucky may be worse than the grief of losing him to begin with.

“Cap?” Jones says quietly. “Permission to speak?”

Steve nods. Jones can be very insightful.

The darker man smiles a little, sympathetic, glancing down first, then up again.

“I know it's hard, looking at Sargeant Barnes. Whats become of him.”

'You don't know,' Steve thinks, but he doesn't say it. 'You have no idea what I've lost.' Then he feels selfish because is it really him, Steve, who lost anything? Bucky is the one whose dignity was stripped from him. Bucky is the one who didn't remember his own name or his friends, who is miraculously still able to stand and walk and speak after god knows what Hydra did to him with that chair. Bucky is the one pissing himself and-

He takes a deep breath and realizes he's crushing the ration tin in his hand. Trails of water are streaking down his cheeks.

“Cap,” Jones's voice is soft as he sits down by Steve.

“I'm sorry,” he wipes quickly at his own face, tossing the now empty ration tin aside. “I don't know... what's wrong with me,” he laughs weakly. “I just... I'm just tired, that's all. But I'm fine. I can stay up-”

“Why don't you let me bunk in the front hall tonight and-”

“I should go check on Dernier and Dugan. That's what I should do-”

“How about I do that?” Jones offers.

Steve shakes his head. “I'm the captain. You can bunk in here, like you said, and I'll.. I'll go check on them and I'll be back. I should check on Monty too, make sure he's all right-”

“I'm sure Morita could make some rounds while you stay with the Sarge for a while,” Jones suggests and Steve falls quiet.

He'd love to. He wants to be so selfish and sit by Buck, put his arm around his friend, feel him close, warm him up. Steve licks his lips in thought, glancing up to Jones who smiles a little, encouragingly.

“Maybe that's a good idea...” he says, nodding.

 

He excuses himself and goes to talk to Morita who listens quietly, then nods. Steve feels guilty for a moment. Morita's been up on his feet just like everyone else and now he's had to take care of Buck.

“You can get some rest after if you like,” he tells Morita who shrugs.

“Ah, I'm fine, Cap.” He smiles slowly, glancing to Bucky who's been eyeing Steve nervously ever since he stepped into the room. Steve gave him a friendly smile and a nod when he first stepped in and Bucky merely stared back at him with wide eyes before looking away. It was almost more than Steve could stand.

“I'll go check on Frenchie and Dum Dum,” he winks at Steve. “See if they need anything...”

“Thanks,” Steve tells him. He still feels guilty about Monty being up on the roof in this weather. He should relieve Monty after a while, he thinks. It's only fair, since he's the super soldier and his body temperature is naturally higher than everyone else's. He can withstand cold better.

“Hey Sarge,” Morita is kneeling by Bucky for a moment. “I'm gonna go check on the others, okay? I'll be back in a while. Steve's gonna stick with you for a while here. That sound good?”

Bucky slo-owly glances from Morita over to Steve, then back again. He swallows, but nods. Steve doesn't understand. Why is Bucky so afraid of him?

He's going to crush the skull of every last Nazi he finds from now on. It doesn't matter if they're Hydra or not. He's going to personally choke every last one.

“Yes,” Bucky says after a few moments, nodding. “Thank you.”

“See you,” Morita pats him on the shoulder gently, then heads out the door. Greta watches him leave. She's nervously eyeing Steve. He ignores her and looks to Bucky.

His friend is eyeing him shyly, glancing up to him then looking away. Steve smiles at him and steps closer.

“Mind if I sit down with you?”

Bucky looks up at him, then glances to the space beside him and back again. He shakes his head after a moment.

Steve smiles and sits down on the floor by the bedroll, trying not to stare at the empty left sleeve of Bucky's shirt that Morita tied so it wouldn't dangle. Bucky's remaining hand is resting on his thigh.

“Gabe found some food in the kitchen, Buck. Did you hear about that?”

Bucky glances at him, then away, blinking as if lost. He shakes his head after a few moments.

“No, sir.”

“You don't have to call me 'sir,' Buck,” Steve's lips stretch into a small smile. “We're friends. We've been friends our whole lives.”

Bucky nods, brow furrowing. The little line between his brows when he has a look of concentration is so painfully familiar that Steve feels a lump in his throat.

“You used to be small,” Bucky says thoughtfully. Steve actually smiles this time, though his heart is aching.

“Yeah. Yeah I was. I was real little. I was ninety pounds once! And only five feet tall.”

The brun smiles slowly and it's so shy, so brittle, that it makes Steve's heart twinge. Then he's frowning again in thought.

“You got big though. How?”

“I was in a machine.”

“Zola?” Bucky's eyes widen and he seems to cringe as if Zola will just pop out of any room at any moment. Steve is going to kill Arnim Zola. He doesn't care what Peggy or SHIELD has to say about it. He's going to disembowel Zola slowly with his bare hands.

“No, Buck. Zola isn't going to hurt you ever again,” Steve's jaw clenches. “I promise you that.”

Bucky looks slightly relieved as if he isn't quite sure he believes this. Then he's eyeing Steve's face closely, as if searching for something in it.

“Howard's machine,” he says after a moment. Then his eyes light up and his lips part. “Howard Stark!”

“Yes! You remember Howard?” Steve feels a bolt of joy. Bucky is remembering things. This is good. Maybe it's because he's surrounded by his friends now? How long ago did they shock him in that chair? Is that what caused him not to remember?

Steve remembers Bucky healing faster than he used to after he was rescued from the camp. Bucky didn't like anybody noticing, he was certain of it now. He should have made Bucky talk to him about it but...

“Hey, Buck,” Steve says, debating whether or not to ask.

“Yes, sir- I'm sorry,” he cringes.

“No, no, it's fine. You can just call me Steve.”

“Steve,” Bucky says and he wishes his friend's tone didn't sound so flat when he said it, like his lips were just sounding the name out for the first time. Like he hadn't had Steve's name on his lips for years.

“Yeah. I want to ask you a question. Do you heal fast from injuries?”

He feels guilty asking this. Bucky didn't want to talk about it before... before he fell. It's still mind boggling that he's even here, that he's alive, but Steve needs to know and he isn't sure Morita ever caught on to how quickly Bucky would heal. If he did, the medic never mentioned it.

Bucky seems to push himself back into the pillows slightly, his chin lowering. His eyes look down at his own legs and he looks so woeful that Steve immediately backpedals.

“Nevermind,” Steve says. “It's okay if you don't want to talk about it. I won't push you, Buck.”

The brun looks relieved, eyes glancing up in surprise.

“I can...” he grips his own pants at the waistline and begins to push them down. “I can take all of it.”

“Wh-what?” Steve stares at him, glancing between his friend's face and his pants, which he's unzipping and wriggling out of. Greta, in the background, makes a noise of protest and Steve glances to see her turning away and covering her face with her hand.

“Bucky, what are you doing?” Steve keeps his voice gentle but frowns and holds up his hands. The other man gives him a puzzled expression. He's got the pants down, just over his groin and Steve can see his jutting hips. But he tries to keep his eyes on Bucky's, color high in his cheeks.

“I... I can heal fast,” Bucky says. “I can... please you.”

Something cold settles in Steve's gut as he stares at his friend.

“Oh,” he says after a few moments. He blinks a few times, realizing that he's making Bucky very nervous. He licks his lips, glancing away. “Well uh, that's good Buck. I'm glad you can heal fast. That's very good. I want you to keep your pants on though, okay?”

Bucky looks so puzzled, it reminds Steve of someone trying to find something they'd misplaced. He tries to ignore the way it feels like the floor is slipping out from underneath him and he can taste bile at the back of his throat. He wishes his brain was not moving to the horrible, inevitable conclusion that it is, but there's no other...

Bucky is tugging his pants back up in place, even though he still seems disconcerted. Then he's watching Steve quietly and waiting.

“Are you warm, Buck? Are you warm enough?” He looks at the blanket Morita spread over his friend's legs critically. They should have grabbed more blankets from the barracks. Maybe he can slip out somehow and go grab some more. Bucky needs to be kept warm.

Bucky nods, lips curling at the corners. He glances down again, then back up at Steve. Then his eyes travel down Steve's chest to his belt. He looks up into Steve's eyes and gives him another small smile. He licks his lips slowly, parting them. He sucks his lower lip in between his teeth, then lets it slide out slowly.

Steve stares at him.

“Okay, well...” He forces a smile, then clears his throat.

Bucky gives him a puzzled look, frowning slightly. Then he scoots closer to Steve. Steve relaxes and smiles a little. Maybe Bucky wants to sit hip to hip like they used to? He slowly raises his arm and puts it around the frail man.

Bucky's shoulders feel almost breakable under his arm. The brun shifts and scoots closer, then, glancing up at Steve shyly, he lowers his head to Steve's lap.

Steve is almost pleasantly surprised, thinking Bucky will rest his head for a nap but then his friend's face is rubbing against his groin, nuzzling. He gasps and jerks away, scrambling toward the adjacent wall with wide eyes.

Bucky is left supporting himself on his hand, his eyes widening.

“I'm sorry,” he says, his voice almost breaking. He scrambles back onto the bed roll and pulls his knees up to his chest as if he can hide behind them. “I'm sorry...” he looks down at them.

Steve glances over to Greta whose eyes are wide. Her face is flushed red and she turns away, blinking, her hands clasped in her lap.

His jaw clenches and he shoots up from the floor, storming over to grab her by the arm and haul her out of the chair. She lets out a cry of protest as she's dragged into the narrow hallway and shoved against a wall. Steve doesn't slam her into it, although he could. He doesn't want to break her – yet.

“You knew about this, didn't you?” he hisses at her. “I bet you did. I bet you watched them do it, you _selfish, awful bitch_.”

“Captain.”

He freezes, his face bright red. It feels like a vein is standing out on his forehead.

He turns to glare at Gabe Jones who glares back at him.

“Unhand the lady, please Cap.”

He does, releasing her arm and shoving her as he does. He glares at her as she gasps and hisses, rubbing her upper arm and glaring at him. There are impressions where his fingers were on her skin but he doesn't care.

“Find somewhere for this woman to sleep that isn't near Bucky if you would please, Gabe.” He says flatly, then turns and storms off to the kitchen.

He realizes as he reaches the darkened kitchen that he doesn't know where he's going. He just knows that he can't be with Bucky right now. Because if he does, he'll end up crying or choking the life out of Greta.

Steve looks at a small candle lit on the countertop and feels the tears that bite at the back of his eyes. Then he closes them and presses the bridge of his nose. He tries to breathe slowly, but it just reminds him of his asthma attacks in Brooklyn and how Bucky used to coach him through them.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's right Gabe! Put Steve in time out :P


	5. Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky tries to understand what he did to upset the captain. He also reads a letter from his sister Rebecca.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for sad memories, hints of sexual abuse, and a nightmare about abuse. Warnings also for descriptions of gore and gross stuff.  
> Poor Bucky. Don't worry, he'll get some cuddles soon!

Bucky has made a mistake.

He thought the Captain wanted pleasure. He was actually pleased to give it to Steve, because he didn't seem cruel like Drechsler and the other guards had been. The Captain and his men were kind to Bucky and gave him a bedroll, food, and water. It would have been nothing to take the blonde man in his mouth and please him. 

He was willing to give the Captain his ass too if Steve wanted it, even if it would hurt. He doesn't need to be prepared although it is nice when he is. Sometimes it isn't – sometimes it's just an excuse to stretch and hurt him.

He would still spread his legs and let Steve take him if the blond wanted it. He feels like he might have wished to give it to the little blond man at some point anyway. Bucky doesn't know why but he gets that feeling. If he thinks about it, he remembers his heart racing at a smile the little blond man gave him once. It was hot that day, or very warm.

Now though, he's scared. He failed somehow. Bucky wraps his arm around his knees and blinks against moisture in his eyes. He sniffs. He cannot cry or he will be punished.

The Germans punished him. These people – the Americans – they might not. But he isn't sure yet.

He listens to the sound of the black man talking to the woman in the hallway. They are whispering in German. It sounds like Gabe's German is not very practiced. He speaks French much more smoothly.

_He and Dernier were always like a pair of bookends, though, attached at the hip just like him an' Steve._

Gabe. That's his name. _He has a name, use it._ Someone said that angrily once. He gets the feeling that it was him but he isn't sure. It seems impossible that he ever spoke to anyone that way.

After a few minutes, Gabe enters the room.

“Hey buddy.” He smiles easily at Bucky who looks up nervously. He smiles slightly in turn. He is never sure if he should smile back at these men. They seem kind but Drechsler sometimes smiled at him and then hit him or kicked him. “Everything A-okay?”

He nods.

“I'm sorry,” he says quickly. “I... I want-ed to... please? The Captain.”

Gabe freezes. He raises his eyebrows.

“Yeah? Well, uh... Um. That's not...” Gabe clears his thraot. “Cap's just sad cause you've been through so much. It's not your fault, okay?”

He frowns, puzzled, looking down at the bedroll. The Captain is sad... because he, Bucky, has been through so much.

Maybe it was because other men had him first? Some of the Germans would joke about him having been handed around to more people than they could count. It certainly sounds like the Russians handed him around.

Something inside of him sinks. The Captain was displeased. He could tell that Forty-nine- that Bucky had been passed around. That was why he took the woman instead, maybe.

But hadn't she been passed around? He feels a small spark of something and realizes it's... anger. He feels that it's unfair.

Bucky begins to tremble. He can't be angry. He isn't allowed. It doesn't matter if things aren't fair. He is a tool. He is not allowed to have opinions or protest.

“I'm sorry,” he looks up at Gabe whose lips are parted.

“Uh, it's fine. It's okay.” The man swallows. He moves to sit down in the chair by the door. “I'm sorry Cap got so upset. He's not upset with you, okay?”

Bucky doesn't believe him but he nods, sniffing. Oh shit, he's crying. He's not supposed to cry! He wipes at his face quickly with his sleeve, trembling and looking down.

“You comfortable over there? Feel warm enough?”

He nods. It's a little chilly in the room but he just grabs the blanket and pulls it up over his knees. Then he gives Gabe an effort at a smile before glancing away again.

“That's good. I'm gonna be out here in the hallway with Greta if you need anythin' okay?”

Bucky nods. Then he squirms because he feels the need to urinate building up again. He looks up at Gabe wondering if the man will take him outside.

“Need to...” he starts as Gabe turns to head back into the hall then stops.

“Hm?” Gabe looks at him. “Yeah?”

“Need to...” he tries to think how he should say it. “Need to piss.” He glances down, his face coloring.

“Oh. Uh... Well I'm sure there's a toilet in the building somewhere.” The other man frowns, looking thoughtful. “Hey, how about you come with me, and we'll find it, okay?”

Bucky nods, standing up. He really does need to urinate. It's been hours since he last went on himself and he doesn't want to do that again. The others didn't like it. The Germans certainly didn't like it, even if they laughed at him.

He feels nervous, following Gabe from the room. They pass by Greta who frowns. Gabe stops to ask her in German where the toilet is and she mutters something about one off the kitchen.

Bucky follows Gabe into the kitchen. The Captain is there and Morita is talking to him softly. Morita falls silent and looks to Gabe and Bucky curiously, then back to the Captain.

Steve Rogers turns to look at them.

“Hey Buck,” he says quietly, slowly standing. Bucky freezes. Gabe is standing over near a door peeking through it.

“Oh that's the pantry.”

“What are you looking for?” Morita asks as Steve tries to give Bucky a small smile.

“Greta said there's a toilet around here somewhere.”

Morita points to a door over on Bucky's left. He waits until Gabe goes to open the door and Morita hands him a candle to light and set on the counter of the sink inside before going to peek.

He doesn't usually use a toilet. Usually he goes in his cell or he's taken outside-

_like a dog._

He steps in and without waiting for the door to be closed, opens his fly and pulls himself out. He looks expectantly to Gabe. The others stare at him in shock before Gabe closes the door behind him.

Bucky looks at the door in surprise. Then he looks at the toilet. He bites his lip and wonders if he's supposed to just go. Usually he must be given permission but sometimes the guards would forget and then get aggravated with him when they took him outside and he didn't go. They would kick him and grumble for him to hurry up.

Maye the Americans don't know he needs permission? After a few moments of blinking in puzzlement, he allows himself to go.

When he's finished, he tucks himself away and turns to look at the sink. He wonders if he should wash his hands - hand? Since he is using a toilet it might be what's expected. The Americans clearly expect him to act like a normal person.

He washes his hand in the sink. The water is freezing cold and makes him wince. He looks at the bar of plain soap, contemplating whether or not he should use it, then decides it couldn't hurt. He rubs his palm on it, flinching when Gabe knocks on the door. He drops the soap in the sink, wincing.

“You okay in there?”

“Y-yes.” He wants to add the 'sir' on but they keep telling him it's unnecessary, so he doesn't. He rinses his hand off quickly, setting the soap back in it's spot beside the faucet first. Then he shakes his hand off as there's no towel, wiping it on his pants.

He finds himself doing a double take and looking in the small mirror on the wall above the faucet. He stares for a few moments, stunned.

He hasn't seen his reflection... in some time. He isn't sure when he last saw it.

_Bruises all over his face. Teeth missing. Someone laughing and telling him it could get worse – much worse. He's sobbing. He's naked._

He lets out a whine at the image in his head and rubs at his eyes. He breathes in deeply a few times, then forces his eyes open. He's in this bathroom. He just used a toilet. There's a mirror in front of him.

His face isn't bruised multiple colors like in the memory. His eyes are blue but slightly red from crying. His face is flushed, especially around his nose. He has a slim face with dark circles under his eyes and gaunt cheeks. He has high cheekbones.

Someone brushed a knuckle over them once and told him he was pretty. He shudders.

Raising his own hand he touches one curiously. Then his fingers slide down to prod at his chin. He inspects the cleft there curiously, then brushes his fingers over his lips.

He thinks he likes his eyes. His hair is a mess and falls into his face, so he brushes it back using his hand.

_He's using pomade and smiling. Looking pretty damn good, actually. Time to put on some aftershave. He grins, knowing he's just going to knock Ellen's little socks off tonight. Hopefully knock her skirt right off too._

Blinking, he comes back to himself and he's smoothing his palm over his cheek. It feels clean, not grimy the way it did earlier. He smells of soap and he's wearing clothes.

Blinking, he turns and opens the door, slowly. He isn't sure if he's supposed to wait in the room with the toilet.

Gabe smiles at him.

“You done? I think I need to go too actually.”

Bucky nods, feeling guilty that he took up the bathroom when a handler – when Gabe needed to go.

“It's good there's a toilet in here,” the Captain says, smiling to Bucky. “Morita went to relieve Dugan for a while. He insists he's not tired. Would you like to go back to your bedroll?”

The Captain's eyes are slightly red as if he's also been crying. Bucky stares, puzzled, then realizes he's being challenging and rude and looks down. He thinks, then nods.

“I''ll just be in here,” Gabe jerks a thumb toward the bathroom.

“I can show Bucky back to the room,” Steve says. Bucky follows the Captain.

Greta flinches at the sight of Steve. She's sitting on a bedroll in the hallway – it must be Gabe's, Bucky thinks. He should offer her his bedroll and sleep on the floor. He has slept on the floor many times and it won't really hurt.

But the Captain is standing over him now and he's expected to climb into the bed. He does immediately, lying back against the pillows and pulling the blanket over his body. Everyone wants him to be warm. He doesn't really understand why. Is he sick? He doesn't feel sick, although he is quite tired.

The Captain smiles at him gently and sits in the chair. Bucky blinks several times and finds his eyes slowly shutting. His head jerks up as he tries to stay awake. He hasn't been given permission to sleep. Sometimes if he falls asleep without permission, they kick him. But not always. It's confusing. He heard one of the doctors say that he may go back to the Soviets for more training.

“It's okay, Bucky. Go ahead and get some rest.”

Oh, right. He won't be going back to the Soviets, because the Americans have him now. He's not sure where he'll be going, he realizes. He would feel panicked, but he's so tired.

With a sigh, he slides back into the pillows and closes his eyes.

“Yes, Steve,” he murmurs and begins to drift away. He hears someone else sigh as he does.

* * *

 

Drechsler laughs as he tosses bits of bread barely bigger than Forty-nine-twenty-thirty-four's thumb into the cell. He grabs each bite as he can and stuffs it into his mouth. He hasn't eaten in so long and he's so hungry.

Then he's full, horribly full, and he groans. But Drechsler isn't finished. He yanks the bars off the doors and he's hauling Bucky out.

He lashes out with his single arm, shouting. Then he wishes he hadn't because now he'll be punished.

The handler shoves himself into Bucky's mouth and he's forced to swallow. He chokes on the man's cock and tries to fight.

Drechsler takes him into the room with the chair and it's full of men in Russian uniforms, laughing and cheering. He's strapped down into the chair and he fights, pleads for it to stop, but they don't.

Two metal prods come down to press against his temples and he whines. They shove a thick piece of rubber between his teeth, muffling his begging. He'll be good. He can be good. He'll take them all.

Drechsler laughs and says he'll take them all anyway. As the chair begins to shock him, the others laugh and shout, burning cigarettes and filling the air with smoke as he screams and thrashes in the chair. Lightning threads through his mind, tearing it apart. 

The door is flung open and suddenly all of the guards are gone except for the one thrusting into him. He's just lying there in the chair, limp, while some faceless soldier fucks him.

The Captain steps into the room, followed by Morita and the others. They look down at him in disgust.

“I'm sorry!” he sobs, struggling. The chair is no longer shocking him but he's still being fucked and his wrists are strapped down so he can't stop the soldier. The soldier laughs and continues, mocking him in a language Bucky can't speak.

“Stop!” he cries. He's wearing a blue coat now and his left arm is a stump pouring blood. The stump is numb and black. 

“No,” Steve says. “Keep going. It doesn't matter.”

“I'm sorry!”

“We don't need him,” the Captain says and he turns around, the others following him out. The men fill the room again, laughing and cheering on their fellow as he fucks the prisoner.

 

He thrashes and wakes up whimpering and scrambling in his bed. Then he groans. His head is throbbing and he realizes he smacked the back of it against the wall in his panic.

“Hey,” someone speaks softly. “It's okay, Sarge.” It's Morita, kneeling nearby. His dark eyes are full of concern. The room is darker now, save for some candles burning nearby on the desk. Morita is holding one on a chipped saucer.

“You were just dreaming, buddy.”

He wipes at his face and sniffs, blinking. He remembers sitting in a chair and fighting tears as a man spoke to him in a mocking gentle tone. The man was wearing a uniform – a Russian officer? There were two other men – guards? They were smirking as they crouched beside him. He himself was wearing clothes in the memory. They wanted something from him but he doesn't know what it was. He was humiliated and angry but he was despairing... resigned.

He thinks about this as he looks up at Morita's face, lit from below.

“You want some water?” Morita holds out a canteen. Bucky takes it, pausing before holding it to his lips. Morita nods after a moment and he takes a long drink. He sighs as he hands it back and Morita's lips stretch at one corner encouragingly.

“There you go, pal. You're doin' great, by the way. You can keep that.” He leaves the canteen with Bucky who feels grateful. His cheeks flush as his own lips stretch and he looks down.

“Cap's up on the roof, but he wanted me to give this to you.” Morita holds out a folded piece of paper. It has writing all over it and he realizes it must be a letter. He looks up and nods to Morita.

“Danke,” he says, then flinches. “I'm sorry. Thank you.”

“It's okay,” the medic smiles. “It's good you picked up other languages, right?”

He nods, even though he had to pick them up because he wasn't allowed to speak English unless the doctors directly asked him a question in it. It's why the dream made no sense – he _can_ speak _some_ Russian.

He unfolds the letter with his hand as Morita goes to his own bedroll nearby and lies back down. Bucky watches him lie down and light a cigarette, then looks down at the letter.

He has to scoot it closer to the candle on the saucer left on the floor between his and Morita's bedrolls. A photograph fell out on his lap when he unfolded the paper.

The photograph is of a young woman with wavy hair pinned up and he feels that he knows her or he must.

He turns it over and on the back in cursive is written 'To my big brother Steve.'

He flips it over and looks at the girl again.

Rebecca.

Some emotion floods his chest as he realizes he _does_ know this girl. He remembers himself - that's who he saw in the mirror; a handsome, charming young man - and the smaller, skinnier Steve back in Brooklyn.

She smiles into the camera, her eyes cheery. Somehow, he knows that her eyes are blue even though the photograph is in black and white. She's also got a little hat pinned to her hair and she's wearing a wool coat.

He looks to the date on the letter before he begins to read: “Feb 28th, 1946."

The year is nineteen forty six. He realizes he didn't even think to ask the year or date, but now they've given him something to guess by!

 

“Dear Steve,

I know you are busy so I won't write much. I'm so glad to hear about you and your fiance! She sounds like quite the pearl!

Thank you for that sweet letter you wrote me last month. I did get it along with the letter for January. It was very hard over Christmas. I'm sorry it took me so long to write you back. I don't know why, but it was just so hard to even think.

I have exciting news! I'm going to college in the fall!

It's all thanks to Buck and the money he sent us. You know, he always sent his money home. That's the kind of son and brother he was. He would write things like 'Shoes for Becca' or 'New dress for you, Ma.' We'd gather it up and save it and Ma says we have enough for me to go the first year.

It's hard to even write about him. I start crying at the drop of a hat these days. I miss him so much, Steve. I can only imagine how much you must miss him. Forgive me, I know you have so much to think about and you don't have time to listen to me go on about things.

You know, Buck always thought you were so sensitive. We used to accuse him of treating you like you were made of glass. The year that you first came by our house on Christmas day, he kept badgering us about not mentioning that girl who broke up with you. Up to the moment you walked in the door – 'Don't mention her!' I just remember us sisters rolling our eyes and saying 'Yes, we know' and him glaring at us. I don't know why but it's the funniest thing, remembering him glaring at us.

We shared some funny stories about him this Christmas. I can't say it's gotten easier, but we can think about the good memories now.

I haven't decided what I'm going to study yet! I'm really trying to make up my mind but I can't. I was thinking about studying Literature. I remember Buck always dreamed about being a great writer. Did he ever tell you? Of course, I'm sure you found his stories lying around. Buck used to write all kinds of things. Did you know he wrote poetry? He was actually really good at it. We read some of his things at Christmas.

Violet got angry though. She said it's always about Bucky these days - 'Bucky Bucky.' I wanted to slap her. She said she was sorry afterward, but you should have seen how she flaunted her fiance's money. 

I know I shouldn't write so hatefully about her but she was acting so ugly at Christmas. I've got to let off steam somehow, I guess. 

Pearl wrote you a letter but I don't know if you ever got it. It was funny. She talked about this boy she was dating! Can you believe our little Pearl dating? I know she's not really little anymore – she's a young lady. Still! And her essay won the school contest! She wrote about the local war effort – went around interviewing people for weeks! She got a cash prize of five dollars!

I hope you'll write me back and tell me some more about your adventures these days. Do say hello to the Commandos for me! Everyone at school is so jealous that I know them!

And do thank Mr Jones for the little book of French poetry! I'm afraid I can't understand most of it, but Pearl and I have so much fun reading it out loud. It sounds so fancy. Maybe I will study French!

Love,

your sister Becca”

 

He frowns. Rebecca is the captain's sister? Somehow that doesn't sound right. He peers at the photograph again in the dim light. Isn't Rebecca...

He recalls arguing with a young woman, the girl shouting at him. The woman in the photograph looks very much like her. He doesn't recall what the argument was about.

Are he and Steve _brothers?_

His face heats as he considers it. It seems like it might be true, but then why does he remember wanting to give his body to the skinny blond?

Rebecca mentions him, Bucky, in the letter. She used to complain to him. Steve visited  _them_ for Christmas.

“ _That's the kind of son and brother he was...”_

So she must be _his_ sister. But she calls herself Steve's sister too. Was this the Captain's way of telling him that they're brothers?

His stomach sinks at the thought that Steve wanted him to read this letter so that he'll know why he was upset when Bucky offered to pleasure him. His face heats. He didn't know... he had no idea.

But why wouldn't Steve just _tell_ him that they're brothers?

It must make him sick, Bucky thought, to see his brother offer to pleasure him.

He folds up the letter with the photograph on top. For a moment he looks at the young woman and almost smiles. Then his smile quickly fades and he tucks the letter just under the edge of his bedroll to keep it safe.

He slides back down to rest against it, careful to close the canteen so it won't spill. He had it propped up against his thigh while he read the letter.

As he lies in the dark, he thinks about the fact that he has three sisters – Rebecca, Violet, and Pearl.

According to the letter, Rebecca seems to think he's dead. Christmas was difficult and they shared stories about him – memories.

His family thinks he's dead.

Bucky bitterly thinks that maybe it should stay that way.

As he drifts off, he remembers that she mentioned he liked to write. It makes his lips stretch a little as he wonders what kinds of stories he would write. He hopes they were good stories. It would be very embarrassing if his family read the stories at Christmas and they _weren't_ good. Rebecca apparently thinks he's a good poet and for some reason, this makes Bucky smile. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ta da, Bucky is a writer. I don't know why, I just have fun picturing Bucky Barnes writing pulp or noir back during the 30s. Steve's the artist and Bucky is the writer. Just think about teenage Bucky writing poems about 1930s teenager angst.


	6. Best Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Steve finds himself grieving it takes one of the other Commandos to help him keep going. Meanwhile, Bucky has some questions for Steve.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updating ALL THE FICS. I have so many Bucky fics to update.   
> Warnings for this chapter: too many feels, grief, fear of punishment/torture. Brief mention of Steggy.

Steve patrols the rooftop with cautious steps, looking out into the forest. It's dark all around him and he doesn't even want to risk using a flashlight. Fortunately the snowing has stopped and the moon is out, so he can see where he's walking.

He sits down on a chair that the guards must have left up on the roof. He thinks about the bodies on the second floor and the bodies in the basement. The bodies gone cold out in the woods, stiff by now.

He misses the days when he never thought of frozen bodies at all.

He thinks about the Valkyrie and what it would have been like if he hadn't managed to leap out before the crash.

How quickly would he have died?

Would he – would the Commandos ever have found Bucky if-

Steve shakes himself. No. He won't think about those things right now. He needs to stay focused.

He rubs his hands together, glad for the gloves that he's wearing. Peggy gave them to him for Christmas.

“You don't take care of yourself properly,” she'd given him a look. “Fingers can still freeze, even if they're attached to Captain America.”

He takes out his compass and peers at the photo of her in the dark. He's got a new photo in his shirt pocket – of her in the dress they went dancing together in. He smiles, remembering himself turning bright red with mortification and trying not to step on her toes while she laughed and practically lead him. The memory of the kisses and the evening they shared afterward warms him.

Then he pictures Bucky in his cage and his stomach twists. He tucks the compass away, his teeth clenched. Steve almost wants these bastards from town to show up so he can blow their brains out.

But he can't be trigger happy. He's a captain. He has to be level.

_'Level? Those sons of bitches deserve everything they get.'_

The war is almost over, but nothing has really changed. There were Hydra hiding out above this sleepy little town in Austria.

Bucky mentioned Zola's name. Is that little rat bastard involved in this somehow? Or was Bucky merely remembering what happened at Azzano?

God only knew what had been done to him in that chair – what if his memories were jumbled? What if he doesn't even know where he is now?

Steve nearly jolts out of his seat as he realizes none of them had actually explained to Bucky where he is or even told him what the date is! Does he even know the year? And Steve just gave Morita a letter for Bucky to read about his family!

He smacks his hand over his face and curses himself under his breath. How will Bucky even feel, reading about his family mourning him? He'd thought it might make Bucky feel good to know how much they miss him.

But did he even know he has a family to begin with?

'I'm such an idiot! Bucky deserves better than this.'

Steve sighs and forces himself to remain seated. He needs to wait for someone to come up and relieve him before he goes storming down and scaring the daylights out of everyone.

Close to dawn, he's patrolling the wall and peering down cautiously into the forest when he hears someone coming up the stairs to the roof.

He turns to see Falsworth smile at him from the door leading to the stairs.

“Captain. I'm here to pay my tribute.”

“I think I should probably stay up here, actually,” Steve says, looking off into the forest. Then he smells something wonderful and turns to stare. Monty smiles. He's bearing a tray of hot tea, bread, cheese, and jam. Steve's jaw drops and he takes the tray.

“Thank you!” he hisses and goes to sit down immediately, stuffing his face with jelly coated slices of bread. He moans at the taste of jelly – it's been weeks since he last enjoyed such a breakfast.

Falsworth laughs.

“Slow down, Captain. Try to make it last,” he winks. Steve feels his face growing hot. He's always stuffing his face these days, eating more than any man has a right to. But the Commandos just tease him about it.

“You know food doesn't last around me,” he tries goodnaturedly. Monty smiles. He looks out toward the forest and sighs.

“Spot anything yet?”

“No... it's been quiet. But I don't think that means we're off the hook.”

“Of course not,” Monty's smile is wry this time. “I do bring good news. Barnes is awake.”

“Is he?”

“He slept pretty well through the night according to Jim.” Steve smiles slightly at the news. “And he woke with a mighty hunger.”

“Good.”

“He did have a nightmare earlier this morning. Woke up shouting.”

Steve's smile fades and his brows furrow.

“But he went back to sleep for a few hours. He's eating breakfast now.”

The thought of Bucky eating jelly toast and cheese gives Steve a small sense of satisfaction. It also hurts, thinking of how long he might have gone without sufficient nourishment, let alone luxuries.

“Morita's having to monitor how much he eats, of course. He clearly wasn't.... fed often,” He falls quiet, looking down the wall with a sigh. Steve watches his expression transform from something dismal to disgust and feels a satisfaction at the glimmer of anger in Monty's eye.

“Bastards.”

“Couldn't agree more.”

Then Falsworth's eyes are on him, full of sympathy.

“Oh, captain. I'm sorry. I'm being insensitive.”

“Don't apologize to me,” Steve's face flushes. “I'm not the one who...” he coughs on a bite of toast suddenly. “Excuse me.”

He just keeps seeing Bucky on his knees, looking up at him in distress as he's rejected.

He licks his lips and takes a quick sip of tea and even though it's hot, he swallows it. Steve can't afford to cry right now. He wipes at his face awkwardly with his glove.

“Sorry,” he smiles, coughing again. “Just... toast.”

“It's good,” Monty says, understanding, thank God.

“Thanks for bringing me the...” he halts as he looks up and realizes the sky has grown brighter. He stands slowly.

“Captain?”

Steve looks in the direction of – there it is.

The sun is dawning on the horizon. It's pink and just a glimmer of gold through the haze of light snow. Steve can see his breath on the air as he looks at it.

Just twenty four hours earlier, his heart was heavy – a dull ache that had taken root in his heart sometime after the crash of the Valkyrie had become something of a constant presence in his life. He'd smiled for cameras after his rescue, embraced Peggy, agreed to go back on missions... he'd carried on with life.

It isn't until that moment that he realizes two things. The ache that had almost begun to feel like an old friend had begun after Bucky fell from the train – it was just an older, softer version of the breathless emptiness he first noticed in the pub the night after Bucky fell. He'd probably always known this, but it wasn't until now that he could admit it.

The second thing he realizes is that this ache, which had become his new 'normal,' is gone.

It isn't completely gone, rather, but transmuted into... into something else. It's a blend of perplexion, joy, anxiety, and … grief, he realizes.

It's still grief. But it's a different kind of grief now.

He doesn't notice his face is wet until he feels a hand on his shoulder and looks at Monty.

“Steven.”

He suddenly feels immensely grateful for the presence of the other man, even while he's embarrassed. Looking into Monty's gentle brown eyes, he realizes a third thing.

Bucky _is_ gone.

The man he'd known from the train, yes, but also the boy from before the war – the one he'd grown to love. The little man Steve used to be is gone too. In their places are two broken men – all that's left – and the potential of what they could be.

He doesn't know why he ever expected anything else.

He doesn't realize he's weeping until Monty gently helps him back down into the chair.

“I'm,” he gasps. “Sorry. I'm sorry-”

“No...” Falsworth, gently rubs his shoulder. “Look at me, Steven. Listen. Listen.”

Steve sniffs and wipes at his eyes again, his face flushed. His men need him and here he is crying like a baby.

“Did I ever tell you about my friend Brian?”

Steve wipes at his nose with his glove and shakes his head.

“He was my best mate growing up. Never went anywhere without him. I never told you,” Falsworth grimaces and Steve realizes it's an effort at a smile, but there's pain in the man's eyes. “You and James always reminded me of us.”

“Monty...”

“No, no, I know. That was why I never said anything. How could I? It... it happened before... Azzano. I got news.” He looks down, pursing his lips, then looks at Steve again. “His wife,” he smiles. “One of our friends we grew up with – she wrote me a letter.”

“I lost hope when we landed in Azzano, Steven. It was James. James who told us stories about his best friend in the whole word, Steven Grant Rogers,” he chuckles and shakes his head. “And I forgot.” He gives Steve's shoulder a squeeze. “I forgot about the pain.”

“I never forgot about Brian. Oh sometimes, yes, I did – there were battles. But every night the memories would return – every old barn or chapel we holed up in, there he was waiting for me. And I realized that no, I didn't have him anymore.” He swallows. “I won't see him again, Steven. He's gone. And I know you look at James -”

“No!” Steve cuts him off, desperate not to hear it, to not let Monty continue that train of thought-

“I know you look at James and you think he's gone. But he's still in there. He's not the man you remember – the man we remember.” Monty falls silent for a few moments, eyes closing. He breathes deeply. At last, he opens his eyes and they're wet. “Believe me. I know. But you have _something_ , Steven. You have hope.”

Steve swallows. Then he nods, slowly.

“You're right. I'm sorry-”

“Don't,” Monty shakes his head. “There's nothing to apologize for. I just want you to go downstairs and talk to that boy, because he's confused and he's lost and he needs _you_. Not me, not Morita, not bloody Dugan. He needs you, Steven.”

He nods.

“Okay.”

“Here. Take this tray with you. No, I've already eaten. I want you to go downstairs and answer that boy's questions because he's driving Morita mad.”

Steve lets out a weak chuckle and nods.

“I will,” he takes the tray from Monty and allows himself to be ushered to the stairs leading down into the building. He stops at the top of the stairs and smiles at Monty.

“I doubt they'll attack in broad daylight,” the Brit says. “If they choose to attack us at all. They may not.”

“Here's hoping for that,” Steve lifts his tea cup, smiling, and Monty nods.

“Go get some rest. Talk to your friend.”

“Thank you.” Steve says after a few moments. They share another nod and then he's heading down the stairs with the tray.

 

* * *

 

 

Bucky eats a piece of cheese, slowly, and it's the best thing he's ever tasted. But then it's topped by _jelly_. Bucky doesn't remember ever having eaten jelly.

“He's putting jelly on the cheese,” Gabe chuckles. “Is that good, Sarge?”

Dugan is in the doorway, watching with a smile. Bucky likes Dugan – he thinks he liked Dugan before. When he, Bucky, was one of the Howling Commandos.

Gabe has been telling him all about he was their Sergeant. He keeps forgetting this, even though Steve explained to him that he is Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes. Or was. He likes the stories. He likes the idea that he was this Bucky Barnes, a famous sniper. It was Gabe Jones who told him he was a sniper. When Gabe mentioned this fact, everything started to make a strange kind of sense and Bucky's finger began to itch, as if it belonged over a trigger.

_'You are a weapon. You are not a man.'_

But this Bucky Barnes was both a man and – according to what Jones and Dugan tell him – a weapon all in one.

He eats his cheese covered in jelly and begins to chew more slowly. His stomach is beginning to give him the feeling that says he can't eat anymore or he'll become sick so he stops. It makes him feel bad to put the cheese down on the plate, though.

When he looks up again, noticing the silence of their chuckling and banter, he sees the captain and grows tense. He lowers his eyes to the floor – the proper response to a superior, a master.

Steve steps into the room, past Dugan, nodding to the other men. Then his deep blue eyes settle on Bucky and the dark haired man gives the captain a shy smile.

The blue eyes look sad but then the captain smiles too – it's a kind smile that makes Bucky's chest feel warm.

“Hey, Buck. I heard you had a bad dream.”

The captain closes his eyes after saying it for a moment, seeming to flinch. Then he smiles at Bucky but it seems forced.

He nods, wondering if he will be punished now for making noise.

The blonde enters the room and Bucky tries not to cringe. Cringing doesn't really help. It usually just encourages them to hit him harder.

The captain doesn't hit him though. He just smiles almost shyly, standing at the foot of the mat and Bucky wonders if he should stand to attention. He moves to get up and Steve shakes his head.

“No, Buck. You can stay down there. I um... Do you want to talk about what you dreamed?”

Bucky blinks. It's a loaded question. He could tell the captain what he dreamed about. But he might be punished for it. It doesn't sound like an order, but it could be.

“It's okay if you don't want to,” Steve adds.

Bucky's shoulders relax. It's not an order? He shakes his head, still watching Steve closely. He tries not to stare into the captain's eyes so he keeps glancing down at the floor.

“Okay. That's fine.” Steve looks around as if he's unsure. The men behind him in the doorway shuffle.

He looks up and Morita and Dugan give him soft smiles. Dugan clears his throat.

“Well! I reckon I should get back to work!”

“Yeah, me too,” Morita and the red haired man leave the room and shuffle down the hall toward the kitchen.

“Right,” Steve nods to them. “Thanks guys.”

“No problem,” Gabe says as he heads out of the room too. They are now alone, the captain and Bucky.

“Bucky...” Steve steps closer and crouches on the floor by the bedroll. “I heard you had some questions? About your family?”

He sits up, eager to ask, but afraid. He has to make this right, though.

“Are we... brothers?” His face heats at the question. He should know this. Or he should have been able to gather it from the intel given to him.

Steve looks puzzled.

“No. I mean, we're like brothers. I've known you a very long time – since we were both kids.”

Bucky frowns slightly, then nods.

“Oh.”

“We're best friends.”

Best friends. _'My bestest ever pal, Stevie Rogers-'_

He smiles a little.

“Really?”

“Yeah,” Steve's eyes are soft and fill with... soemthing like admiration.

Love, some part of Bucky's mind suggests. Steve loves him. As a best friend.

He smiles a little more and Steve smiles too.

“Y-you... know my parents? And Rebecca?”

“Yeah. And you knew my Ma before she died.”

“I did?” He tries to think of Steve's Ma. He barely recalls a thin, blonde woman – almost as frail as her son. But no, she was only frail in appearance.

She was actually strong. Not strong like Steve – super sstrong – but hardy. She worked hard.

“She was a nurse,” Bucky guesses.

Steve smiles and nods and Bucky feels a rush of pleasure that he guessed correctly.

“She sure was,” his eyes are getting wet and he swallows. Is he sad? Bucky didn't mean to make him sad. He smiles at Bucky but it isn't like his earlier smile. It looks forced.

He sits down, cross legged and Bucky looks around. He crosses his own legs and scoots off the bedroll, gesturing for Steve to sit there. But Steve just shakes his head.

“No, Buck. You can stay on the bed. There you go.”

Bucky scoots back on to it quickly and gives Steve another little smile.

“Steve.”

“Yeah, Buck?”

“My sister... she says I write?”

“You do! Or you did. You used to write stories. Poems too, only you didn't share those so much.”

Bucky is awed.

“Were they any good?”

Steve stares at him. Then he smiles and huffs.

“Yeah,” he nods. “I thought they were plenty good. You used to write uh, pulp stuff.”

“Pulp?”

“Like uh, mysteries. Science fiction,” Steve's smile broadens. “Mostly mysteries though – detectives and gorgeous dames, stuff like that. You loved to read those stories – and you'd listen to the serials on the radio. We both would.”

“We did?” Bucky's lips curve into a tentative smile.

“Yep!” Steve looks happier now. “You had-” he laughs softly. “You had this talent where you could make the funniest impersonations. I remember you had me in tears one time!” He chuckles.

“Tears?” Bucky frowns.

“Well I laughed so hard, I teared up,” Steve gestures to his own face with a hand. He shakes his head. “You'd add stuff to the story too – say how it didn't make sense what the characters did and what they shoulda done.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. You could always spot a problem in any story. Used to drive me crazy. I just wanted to hear the story,” Steve smiles and his eyes are gazing off. Bucky winces.

“Sorry.”

“Hm? Oh no, don't be sorry. You were smart. _Are_ smart.”

Bucky ducks his head. He's a weapon. Weapons are not smart. But he got a compliment, so...

“Thank you,” he says, and he means it for more too, for the information, for the stories of how he used to be.

“You're welcome, Buck.”

Steve looks so happy. Bucky tries to think of another question to ask him, but they're interrupted.

“Shit! Attack! We're under attack!” Dugan comes running down the hall, his rifle ready. Steve immediately stands and turns to look at him with wide eyes.

“There's a truck coming up the road. Monty said they don't look friendly.”

Steve nods.

“I'll head to the door near the road. Dugan, cover the roof. Tell Morita I want him here with Bucky and the woman. Gabe can take the front hall. Where's Dernier?”

“He's in the tower. Still tryin' to get the radio to work.”

“You take the front hall with Gabe. He can support us on the roof.”

“Sir!” Dugan's eyes are gleaming. He's ready for the fight and Bucky has a flash of an image in his mind; Dugan laughing and whooping as he reloads his rifle. The man hurries in the opposite direction from which he came.

He looks to Steve eagerly as he carefully pushes himself up and stands at attention. Steve looks to him and his eyes are soft again.

“Can you stay here, Buck?”

The soldier nods. He will obey orders. He is a good soldier.

“Just try to stay calm. If anyone breaks through Gabe and Morita – not that I think they will, but...” Steve takes a pistol from his hip and hands it to Bucky who looks at it in surprise before looking up at Steve, questioningly.

“Go ahead, Buck. Take it. I want you to stay in here, okay? Only shoot if you have to.”

“Sir,” he stands straight and nods, then takes the pistol. He eyes it carefully for a moment, checking the safety and the bullets. Then he looks at Steve again.

The Captain nods to him.

“I'll see you soon.”

He leaves the room.

Bucky nods, standing at attention and watches him go. After a few moments, he sits, the pistol in his lap. He thinks about the look in the captain's eyes before he left the room. It looked like the awe he saw earlier, the admiration.

Love? Maybe. But there was something else too, and it makes the soldier feel good.

He's been given a task. He will wait and when Morita comes, he will receive more orders. He will assist in defending the fort. He doesn't miss the irony that what was his former prison is now their safety, but he will defend it and the Commandos with his life. 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise that's not ominous foreshadowing at the end there, lol. Bucky will NOT be sacrificing his life in the next chapter. I'm not that cruel!   
> But our heroes will have to get down and dirty! Time for Steve to go blow off some steam! 
> 
> Also, I totally made up Brian, Monty's friend. I figure all of the Commandos know people who died during the war. Also I enjoy picturing Bucky telling them about Steve while they're in Azzano. "He's thin as a rail and scrappier than an alley cat but he's also the biggest dork you've ever seen."


	7. Battle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve and the Howlies defend their fort. A survivor of the battle proves useful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't a very long update, but it's what I have. I'm already working on the next chapter though, so fear not! We get to hear from Peggy next chapter :)

Steve runs to the tower first to find Dernier. The tower is still solid, but damaged from the Commandos' earlier attack. (Steve may or may not have thrown a grenade at it, but it mostly damaged the outer walls).

The Frenchman is putting the radio back together after having opened it and pried it apart. Dernier is actually the resident demolitions expert but he's also something of an amateur whiz when it comes to everything electrical. Steve is barely out of breath, but his heart is beating fast as he enters the tower via the spiral steps ascending to it.

“We're under attack-”

“Je connais, mon Capitan,” Dernier says wryly. Steve can already hear shots through the thin tower walls.

“Can you move the radio downstairs? We're probably not safe up here.”

Dernier smiles at him like he finds the suggestion amusing and nods.

“Up 'ere will be the best signal.”

Steve nods. “All right. I'll be back.”

He goes to the window facing the roof and opens it. He hears Dernier chuckling as he jumps out of it and lands ten feet below onto the roof.

“Thank God you're here,” Dugan is already out of breath. He and Monty have taken different positions on the wall. Monty is crouching against the lip of the roof facing the front hall, while Dugan is still aiming toward the road.

“Fucking bastards got into the yard,” Monty explains as Steve reaches him. Steve nods and counts how many 'bastards' are down there. He can see the truck they took up the road from the town. He spots three and raises his shield in time to deflect a bullet from a fourth. Sniper in the woods. Wonderful.

“Sorry,” he says to Monty who flinched at the ricochet. “Try to take out the sniper.”

It's unsaid that this would be easier if they had Bucky. Bucky would have already eliminated the guy or at least be engaging him in a cat and mouse game.

The weird thing is that the thought's occurred to him half a dozen times and it almost makes Steve smile because they _do_ have Bucky now.

He's just... not capable of returning to any kind of combat role.

No. Bucky will never be back in a combat role if Steve can help it. Bucky's days of war are done and Steve is going to get all of his friends home safely.

With that in mind, he leaps up from cover and aims his shield at one of the soldiers who's taken cover behind the truck's passenger side door. The shield strikes the door, knocking the man crouching behind it into the truck and he crumples with a groan.

Steve hears shouts in German and grins. They know who's here now.

With a dark chuckle, he climbs over the wall onto a lower slanted roof and then runs off, leaping on to the roof of the truck.

“Oh you've got to be kidding me!” Monty shouts before letting out a cry as the sniper nearly tags him, the bullet skimming the roof tip he's hiding behind. “Bastard! Where are you...”

Steve drops down to the ground on the other side of the truck and takes out the two guys hiding behind it with punches and kicks. Then he yanks the driver side door open and grabs the man cowering in the seat, knocking him out with a punch and tossing him next to his fellows. He pulls out his pistol and heads around to the back of the truck – a covered wagon. He waits for a moment, then steps out, pistol at the ready.

The man in the back raises his hands. Steve hears a shot and stiffens.

He turns his head to see the man thirty yards behind him falling with a groan. Dugan whoops overhead and Steve looks back to the man in the wagon. He still has his hands up. Steve reaches up and grabs him by the shoulder, hauling him down.

Dugan and Monty are both focused on the sniper now. Steve can hear their shots.

He forces the man onto his knees, then rips off the gas mask he's wearing. He's surprised to see such an innocent and youthful face. With a frown, he snatches the man's belt off, breakingthe buckle and causing him to stare with wide eyes over his shoulder. Steve secures the younger man's wrists, then waits until the shots stop, scanning the rest of the horizon.

“He's gone!” Dugan's shouting from the roof. “Fucking bastard ran!”

Monty's cheering. “That's right! Run!”

Steve shakes his head and lets out a huff. He hauls the boy up and tugs him along, checking the other men. Steve takes the boy around to the back entrance, noting two other bodies in the road.

That's... nine assailants? Including the sniper who got away.

He's careful as he reaches the back door and calls up to Dugan to let them in, eyeing the woods around him. He has his shield up.

Gabe opens the door a few moments later and they enter a back hall. They head down the hall into the front hall, Steve pushing the younger soldier to his knees. He grows tense as his eyes adjust to the dim light and he eyes Morita and Gabe.

“Holy shit,” Morita says. “What'd you bring him in here for?”

“He's a kid,” Steve scowls, putting his pistol away.

Gabe steps closer and the young man stiffens as he's disarmed.

“You brought him in here with his guns on!”

“I had more pressing concerns,” Steve raises an eyebrow. Morita rolls his eyes and heads back toward the room Bucky's in.

“Well... all of them are down except this one and the sniper.”

“Sniper?” Gabe's eyes widen.

“Monty and Dugan said he bolted. Probably in the woods.”

“Coward!” Monty calls. “The sniper I mean, not you Sarge.”

Bucky is pretty quiet. Steve wonders if he's disappointed that he hadn't gotten to take part in the battle.

“I'm going to go help the others clean up.”

“Can't we just leave 'em there?” Gabe makes a face. Steve huffs.

“If you want this place to reek, sure.”

“Maybe we should put 'em up as a notice,” Morita says from the narrow hall outside of Bucky's room. “Stick 'em on pikes.”

Steve and Gabe share a look, then laugh.

“That's a path I'm not ready to head down just yet,” Steve winks at Morita. Then he turns to Jones. “See what you can get out of this kid.”

“Sure thing,” Gabe says. Steve heads back out the way he'd come, letting Morita lock and chain the door behind him.

For a moment he wants to go running off into the woods after the sniper. But he might not gain anything from pursuit. Still, it feels damn neglectful not to do something about it.

He looks up at the roof and whistles.

Dugan appears over the edge after a few moments.

“Yeah?”

“You guys taking a break up there?” Steve teases.

“Ha ha, all respect Cap? Fuck you.”

Steve grins. “You want to come down and help me put these squids away?”

“Hell no. But I suppose you might need someone to cover your ass while you're playing maid.”

“Thanks.” Steve says wryly and headed over to the side of the building facing the road.

He scans the horizon for a moment, glancing toward the bushes before hurrying over to grab two of the bodies by limbs and drag them toward the truck.

He spends about fifteen minutes tossing the bodies into the back of the truck. Then, Dugan riding next to him, Steve drives toward the woods and to dump the bodies. He doesn't let himself dwell on the fact that he'd only knocked out some of the guards – a mistake he's made plenty of times in the past. Dugan and Monty put bullets in all of them anyway – neat round holes here and there – while Steve was taking his prisoner inside.

The bodies from the previous day are still there – frozen stiff. Dugan makes a noise of disgust as Steve climbs out of the truck.

“Cover me,” he tells Dugan who nods.

“Gladly.”

He unlatches the tail of the truck then begins to drag the bodies and toss them out onto the forest floor. There's no point burning them. He does check to make sure they're all dead, feeling for a pulse.

Once that's done, he spies the forest. If he were a sniper on the run, where would he go?

Probably find somewhere to lie low and wait for nightfall. It would be idiotic to go looking for him now, especially alone which is what Steve would want to do – he wouldn't want to risk Dugan or any of the others to take out one soldier. Still...

“Can we go inside now? This place is giving me the creeps,” Dugan says.

Steve huffs.

“Fine,” he says. “We could pull the truck up, block the road.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

 

Steve parks the truck at the entrance to the fort, blocking it, then he and Dugan climb out and head back up hill toward the 'back door.' Steve raps his knuckles on it and Gabe opens it a moment later.

“Been hanging around here waiting for you guys. Morita and Buck got their eyes on our friend. Dernier's still in the tower.”

“Bucky's guarding him?” Steve raises his eyebrows as he heads into the room.

Gabe chuckles. “You should see the way he's got his eyes just trained on that guy. I think the guy's about to mess his pants.”

The others laugh.

“Good man, Barnes!” Dugan says approvingly. They head down the hall to the main hall where Steve indeed finds Bucky monitoring the prisoner with an expression that's almost frightening in its intensity. Greta is back in the other room that Bucky's been resting in. Morita is in the small hallway keeping watch on both rooms.

“Easy soldier,” Steve says to Bucky, trying to hide a smile. Bucky lowers his pistol and nods, chest puffing up. “You can take a rest. Thank you.”

Bucky's face grows slightly red and he ducks his head.

“Sir,” he says, then he heads down the narrow hall. Gabe and Dugan are smiling a little.

The young prisoner eyes Bucky curiously as he walks away.

“Speaks English,” Gabe's humor fades as he looks to Steve. “Limited, but he can get his point across.”

“Good,” Steve looks to the prisoner. He has large brown eyes and a boyish face. Innocent, but there's a gleam to his eyes that isn't all so pure. He's studying the three of them very curiously.

“Dugan? Mind checking on Monty?” Steve asks.

“Sure thing,” the redhaired man huffs and heads up the stairs.

Steve crouches by the prisoner.

“What's your name?”

“Heinrik Sternberg.”

“Rank?”

“Private.”

“Age?”

“Seventeen.”

“You're a little young to be storming a fort.”

The young man shrugs. He's eyeing Steve's shield curiously.

“How many of your number stayed behind?”

Sternberg's eyes light up for a moment, then he shrugs again. “Drei? Three?”

“There's only three of your men in the village.” Steve tilts his head. “Because we just took out eight and then there's you.”

Gabe doesn't correct Steve. He doesn't know how many had attacked.

“The sniper is out there,” Sternberg guesses after a moment, lifting his chin. Steve almost cracks a smile. Then he notes the pin on the kid's lapel that has the red Hydra skull and tentacles on it. He starts to see red until he reminds himself the person he's dealing with is practically still a boy. Sternberg may not have had any idea what was happening here. It doesn't excuse that he's on the side of Hydra though.

“How much do you know about Hydra, son?” Steve flicks the pin with a finger lightly and Sternberg flinches slightly, blinking. To his credit, he only looks afraid for a moment before he's frowning up at Steve.

“I know enough.”

“Did you know they do experiments on people?” Steve tilts his head.

Gabe is giving Steve a frown before eyeing the kid again. Steve waits, eyes on Sternberg's.

The younger man shrugs a shoulder.

“Should I give you a tour of this building? So you can see what they were doing to one of my men?”

Gabe is looking at Steve now with puzzlement. Steve raises his chin, eyes still on the younger man.

Sternberg looks uncomfortable.

“No? Not curious?” Steve shakes his head. “I didn't think so. I don't think you know anything about Hydra. How long have you been working for them?”

Sternberg is silent for a moment, then he speaks.

“Two months.”

“Two months. Were you ever posted up here?”

“Cap,” Gabe says quietly.

Steve holds up a finger, silent and watching the boy.

He watches Steve nervously, then licks his lips before speaking.

“I... brought things here. Food. Clothing. From the town.”

“Delivery boy,” Gabe notes. Sternberg frowns but nods.

“And they sent you to attack us.”

“Yes.”

“Here's what I'm going to do with you,” Steve says. “You're going back to the town, on foot. You're going to carry a message with you – who is in charge of the town?”

“They have a.. the mayor?” He glances at Jones for confirmation as if he wasn't sure of the term.

“Mayor works,” Gabe says.

“You'll take this message to the mayor and to any living remnants of Hydra in the town. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” Sternberg nods.

“Good,” Steve says and stands. He looks to Gabe. “Got any paper?”

Gabe roots around in his own bag for a few moments until he comes up with a notepad and a pencil. Steve goes to sit down in the room with Bucky as he writes his letter.

“Hey Buck,” he says, sitting down cross legged next to Bucky's bedroll. “Are you feeling okay?”

His friend nods. Bucky looks tired and Steve notices he's under the covers.

“He's cold,” Morita says. “You didn't get yourself shot, did you?”

Steve shakes his head.

“Guess there isn't a radiator in here, is there?” Morita shakes his head. “No other blankets or... How about the kitchen?”

“We could run the oven again. He can sit by it while we make something to eat.”

“Sounds good,” Steve nods. Bucky seems warm under the blanket but he is hunching over slightly. “Did you enjoy breakfast, Buck?”

Bucky nods and his lips twitch at the corners.

“Danke,” his face pales. “I mean, sorry, thank you.”

“That's okay,” Steve smiles encouragingly. He looks at the notepad on his lap. “I'm going to write a letter to the mayor of the town. Make it clear that we're not going to tolerate Hydra hiding there. I'm hoping he'll see that we're right.”

He begins to write, greeting the mayor first, then listing his name and rank and the name of their unit.

Bucky nods, watching him write. Then he licks his lips and Steve glances up to see that he looks like he's about to speak.

“May I... write my family?”

He looks so hopeful and Steve's heart aches.

“Of course you can,” he says when he can speak. “You have every right to write your family. I'll help you write a letter later, if you like?”

Bucky nods, looking pleased.

“They'll be so happy to hear from you, Buck,” Steve blinks, annoyed with the moisture in his eyes, and smiles. “I know they will.”

Bucky looks pleased, his face growing warm, and he ducks his head.

“I want to tell them I'm sorry.”

Steve's face falls.

“What for?”

“For disappearing,” he looks at Steve earnestly. “For making them sad.”

“Buck... that's not your fault,” Steve says and he swallows as he begins to think of all the other things Hydra did that aren't Bucky's fault. It fills him with a silent helplesness and rage, but he has to push that down for now. “You... They thought you were dead because you fell. That wasn't your fault. They're going to be so happy that you're alive. They won't blame you for that.”

“I know. But... I'm still sorry,” he says. Steve smiles gently at him again.

“I'm sorry too. That you had to go through all that and... that your family thought you were gone. But they'll be happy, Buck. You'll see.”

Bucky smiles at him and his friend's eyes seem a little wet too. It's too much for Steve to handle right now – he has to focus on what he's doing. So he gives Bucky another smile, then nods and turns back to writing his letter.

He'll be respectful with the mayor of the town but he has to make it clear that Hydra's presence will no longer be tolerated in any corner of the planet. If the Commandos can free a town of Hydra's influence, so much the better. He's hoping that sparing Sternberg, young as he is, will show that they're willing to end this minor conflict peacefully. Hopefully the mayor will realize that he longer has to harbor Hydra agents. Unless of course, he is Hydra himself, in which case Steve will have no problem bringing him in. If the mayor is Hydra, he may have useful information for headquarters. 

Dernier comes down the narrow hall outside the room, grumbling about something. It sounds like he's hungry. He stops in the doorway. 

"Hey! Don't you drink everything in the pantry," Morita stands. Bucky flinched at Morita's shout and he watches as the other man moves toward Dernier. 

Dernier shushes Morita, then looks to Steve. "Capitan?" 

"Yes?" Steve is almost finished with his letter. 

"The radio is ready. I may be able to establish contact with 'eadquarters but I will need Gabe to 'elp me." 

"No problem. I'll have Monty watch the kid. Dugan can keep watch on the roof." 

"Keep an eye on that boy, eh? I know 'e doesn't look like much but... 'ydra!" Dernier makes a face and Steve smiles slightly. 

"Of course." 

"I can watch him," Bucky volunteers. 

"No, Buck. You need to get some more rest. It's cold in the front hall. Besides, we're going to send him out soon anyway." 

His friend looks perturbed and Steve notices his face coloring. "Don't worry, Buck," he adds. "There'll be plenty more action, I'm sure." 

He seems to brighten at this. Steve smiles and stands up, finishing his letter and signing it. 

"Morita, get Monty down here." 

"Sir!" the man grunts and heads toward the stairs that lead to the roof. "Just don't let Dernier drink everything!" 

Dernier huffs. "I'm not the one you need to worry about! What about Dugan?" 

Steve smiles and looks to Bucky, noticing that he has an amused expression, probably at their banter. 

"I'll be back soon, Buck," he says. "I'm going to give them the news that we found you. They'll be excited." 

Bucky smiles and his face flushes again as he  ducks his head. Steve's heart twinges so he turns and heads out of the room, folding his letter and handing the notepad back to Gabe when he reaches the hall. 

"You," Steve holds out the letter to the kid. "Will take this. You will go straight into town. If I find you around here again, I will shoot you." 

Sternberg slowly stands, wincing at the stiffness in his legs perhaps and nods. Gabe took the belt off of his wrists already and handed it to him. Sternberg apparently tried to retie it around his waist. The buckle dangles uselessly. 

Steve watches as the kid pockets the letter. 

"I'm ready," he says. 

"Here's some water," Gabe says, kindly giving the kid his canteen. Sternberg accepts it and nods. 

"Danke." 

"Monty will walk you to the gate," he tells the kid. "There's a lady, Greta, she's a local here. She will be going with you. I will be watching you as you leave. Understood?" 

Sternberg nodded. "Yes." 

 

He goes upstairs to stand by Dugan on the roof and watch Monty escort the kid and Greta to the gate. Meanwhile Gabe and Dernier work on making contact on the radio. As Steve watches, Monty, Greta, and Sternberg reach the gate where the truck is parked. Sternberg moves around the truck, Greta following closely behind, and then both are heading down the road back toward the village. It will take them maybe half an hour tops to reach the village. Steve didn't allow him a weapon but the kid has water and a coat. Greta has her own coat and a scarf. Dugan scans the trees, rifle ready, in case the sniper returns. Monty walks back up toward the building and Steve keeps watching until he slips inside. 

The window to the tower opens and Dernier's face appears. 

"Capitan!" 

"Oui!" Steve looks up at him. 

"We are in contact! Messinger is on the radio." 

"On my way up!" he calls. Dugan's been out a while and in combat, so he tells Morita to relieve Dugan on his way down into the building. Then he checks on Bucky - sleeping - before heading back up to the tower. His heart beats faster with excitement as he mounts the stairs. He might be able to talk to Peggy. He'll get to inform them about Bucky and... 

He'll have to tell them about the state Bucky was found in. Well, no he won't talk about that over the radio. He won't go into details, he'll just explain that Sergeant Barnes is alive but weak from malnourishment. 

'And beatings and torture and... God only knows what else.' 

He won't allow himself to focus on that right now. First things first. 

He arrives in the tower and smiles at Gabe and Dernier. Gabe nods to him and Dernier salutes him. Both are sitting in chairs by the radio but Gabe starts to get up from his chair to give it to Steve. Denier pats him on the shoulder and stands up instead. 

"Ere you go, Capitan." 

Gabe smiles wryly for a moment at Dernier as Steve sits next to him and hands Steve the radio's microphone. 

"Major's waiting," he says. 

"Thanks," he tells Gabe, then presses the button on the side of the mic. "This is Captain Steven Grant Rogers speaking. Major, do you read me?" 

The radio crackles. 

"Captain, this is Major Messinger. We read you loud and clear. Your man Jones tells us you have news." 

"Copy that," Steve smiles. "We found the fortification guarded yesterday early. We took out the agents present along with their officer and discovered that they had a prisoner." 

"Copy that," Messinger says. "Have you identified the prisoner?" 

"We have. He's our own Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes," Steve felt himself getting choked up so he swallowed. "Do you copy?" 

There's silence for a few moments. It stretches, until almost thirty seconds has gone by. 

"Can you repeat that, Captain?" 

Steve lets out a laugh, looking to the others who are smiling too. They also have tears in their eyes. 

"I repeat, we found Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes and he is alive." 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, a little bit of happiness there for the Howlies. Greta's gonna have to walk her behind all the way to town. :P


	8. Heartbreak

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Agent Peggy Carter receives shocking news. The Howling Commandos prepare to descend on the town for a visit and Jones and Dernier share painful findings concerning Bucky with Steve.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I was writing Peggy and I had two pages and then I started writing Steve and bam, suddenly I had nine pages. Holy guacamole, fanfiction update!   
> I know you guys are ready to read more. 
> 
> The song in this chapter is called "When the Lights Go on Again (All over the World)" which is super heartbreaking if you think about the fact that it's referencing the way cities like London had to go lights out at night to avoid fatalities from bombing. It's sung by Vera Lynn in the recording Steve and Peggy are listening to.   
> Vera Lynn was a popular singer during the second World War.

“It's... complicated,” Peggy says into the phone. “Hydra doesn't view themselves as 'Nazis' these days. Bizzare, I know.”

“I don't really care what they view themselves as,” Major Messinger is young and handsome and painfully reminds her of James Buchanan Barnes. It isn't his looks so much as the way he carries himself and his grim outlook on the world. It's a good thing he and Steve have never met.

Steve told her once that Bucky was a cheerful jokester who liked to go out and dance. A man who read books when nobody was looking and had a mind like a whip.

The Barnes she met was wickedly smart and still had a sharp tongue, but there was a darkness to his eyes, a sharpness in the way he looked at things. She knew Steve had to have noticed but Steve confessed to her later that he'd been so happy to have his friend back, he couldn't bring himself to care at first. Then he'd tried reaching his friend and...

Well. Apparently getting James to talk about what had been bothering him hadn't turned out so well.

“They're a problem and we're going to erase them from the face of the planet,” Messinger added.

“Of course. But understanding how they interact with the remainder of the Reich will help us in that endeavor.”

“Sure,” Messinger said and Peggy felt annoyed. She could tell he wasn't really paying attention anymore. “Anyway -” he fell silent and Peggy could hear someone else speaking. “What?” he said. “I'm in the middle of...” The other person said something else, almost like they were whispering. Peggy frowned, intrigued. “I see. Very well. I'll be there in a moment.”

“I have to go,” he told her. “But you should come to headquarters. Looks like we've been contacted by the Commandos.”

“Wonderful,” she said, a flood of relief running through her veins. Ever since the plane... she was always relieved to hear news from Steven and the boys. “I'll be there shortly.”

“Copy that,” he said and hung up. She hung up and stood from her desk, smoothing her shirt. She slipped her jacket on then headed down the hall after locking her office behind her. She grabbed her umbrella from the carved wood stand and peeked out the door of the building before opening the umbrella and stepping out into the dim daylight of the base.

The base was just outside of London. Peggy hated being shipped back 'behind the lines' – the war was over and she knew she was probably being ridiculous, but she still couldn't help feeling like she was being... dismissed? She supposed it was lucky she'd been able to stay active at all.

Despite her service during the war it didn't seem like the newer brass respected her existence.

'Because you're a woman,' she thought, but gave a friendly nod to the men she passed instead of rolling her eyes. She tried not to pay attention to the way one elbowed his buddy and they winked at eachother.

That was part of the reason she was glad for the engagement ring on her finger.

She thumbed it and felt the familiar little brush of excitement, a smile threatening her lips as she recalled the night Steven proposed. They'd been in London, celebrating Christmas Eve, dancing in a pub, the Commandos carousing at the bar nearby. 

 

* * *

 

 

Steve had been shyly smiling at her in the crowded pub, his eyes glowing but still holding a trace of pain.

“ _When the lights go on again_

_All over the world_

_And the boys are home again_

_All over the world”_

Steve just smiled through the sadness in his gaze that made Peggy wonder if she'd ever see a smile reach his eyes again. She'd just smiled back at him then leaned her head on his chest, relishing the feeling of being wrapped in his arms, having her own arms around him.

She should have realized the Commandos kept glancing back over their shoulders and winking at eachother.

He murmured some apology about how he'd barely given her the time of day lately.

“Don't be ridiculous,” she told him. “You've been busy. We both have.” She sighed. “This is so nice. Just... forgetting about it all for a while.”

He'd smiled and nodded, pressing a kiss to her forehead. Steve was still very shy about kissing in public – well, so was Peggy. She had to be careful about her reputation. One of the many benefits of dating Steve Rogers was that everyone knew she was the captain's girl so men left her alone. Except Howard who seemed to look at it as his duty to be obnoxious to his 'war buddy's' girl.

“ _And rain or snow is all_

_that may fall from above,_

_A kiss won't mean “goodbye”_

_but“Hello to love”_

The song was so painful, she thought, to the both of them and that was why she knew she'd always remember it. Steven rested his cheek on her hair and rubbed her back with a hand as they slowly swayed and turned in a circle. He always felt so embarrassed about his lack of dancing skill but honestly, Peggy didn't really consider herself that skilled at dancing either and just being able to hold him in peace was enough.

“ _When the lights go on again_

_all over the world_

_And the ships will sail again_

_all over the world_

_Then we'll have time for things_

_like wedding rings-”_

“She said wedding rings, damn it!” Dugan chose to shout at that moment, startling both of them. Steve turned bright red as Peggy gave Dugan an irritated look. “Wedding rings, Rogers! Get it over with already!”

The others began to snort and laugh. Jones was choking on his drink.

“Dugan, shut your damn mouth!” Falswell responded.

“Pffft. Way to ruin the moment, idiot!” Morita said. “Well, Rogers, guess you might as well do it now.”

Steve's face was puce as he looked at Peggy, his lips working. Then he was fumbling in his pockets and he pulled out a small box.

She remembered how her heart pounded loud enough to break her ear drums. She'd always silently mocked women who squealed and pretended awe when their beaus presented a ring. Didn't they bloody well know it was coming? But she stood with her hands over her mouth as Steven got to his knees, his lips in a wobbly smile while his eyes grew bright.

“Margaret Carter.”

“Oh bloody hell!” she'd gasped behind her hands. Steven had looked perturbed by her response while Dugan began to laugh and pound on the bar.

“Shh!” the others hissed at him, all watching now and grinning.

“I'm sorry, go on!” she waved her hands frantically. Then she began to nervously smooth her skirt and hair. Steven smiled again, encouraged.

“Will you do me the honor of making me the luckiest man alive and be my wife?”

“Of course I will!” She was so glad none of her friends had been around to hear the awful way she'd practically squawked it at him. Who knew that proposals were so _embarrassing?_

After that it was chaos in the bar – Peggy throwing her arms around Steven's neck. Him smiling and laughing, picking her up in his arms and carrying her bridal style already, the Commandos and everyone else in the bar cheering and clapping their hands. People threw peanuts as if it was rice. The bartender announced a round of drinks for the Captain and his new wife, then yelled at the people throwing peanuts.

 

* * *

 

Yes, it would forever be one of her fondest memories.

She was just sad that Sergeant Barnes hadn't been there to wish his best friend all the luck. She'd known it had to have hurt Steve more than he would say. But he hadn't mentioned his friend that day, choosing instead to make it all about Peggy. And that was why she was the lucky one, she thought, not Steve.

 

When she arrives at headquarters, there's already a buzz in the room. People are smiling and clapping and she realizes she must have missed some news.

She looks to each of the people in the room, curious. They're manning different stations with telephones. She's used to the near constant ringing and chatter, though.

Peggy quickly moves into the office where Messinger is already sitting at a radio, with his lieutenant, Forbes, sitting next to him. Forbes is a pudgy, nervous man with receding hair but still fairly pleasant. She nods to both of them, watching.

“Thank you, Captain.” Messinger is saying. His eyes are alight with something and Peggy raises her eyebrows, waiting. “Agent Carter is here, if you'd like to give her the news.”

“I'd love to,” Steven's voice comes from the radio and she feels a little trill of warmth. She marvels at how he always gives her butterflies. People say it's normal for two people newly in love, but it's still always pretty miraculous to her. She isn't used to feeling this way about someone after focusing so long on her mission.

Messinger looks at Forbes who is too busy smiling at Peggy to notice and then the major elbows him. Peggy gives Forbes a sympathetic smile as he slips out of his seat, yielding it to her.

“Thank you, Lieutenant,” she nods, then gives Messinger a look. He ignores it, handing her the microphone.

“This is Agent Carter, speaking.” She waits a moment, fighting the smile that threatens to spread over her face. She allows herself a bit of a smirk.

“A-Agent Carter!” Steve's feeling the same way then. “It's good to hear from you. I have wonderful news. Well... It's... Sergeant Barnes. He's alive, Pe- Agent Carter. He's alive.”

She sits, stunned, staring off into space. Then she locks eyes with Messinger who smiles and nods, patting her on the shoulder. She looks at the microphone.

“How is this possible?” she forgets all military protocol.

A few moments later the radio crackles again. “We found him at the fort here. He's alive. He's injured – he's weak. Malnutrition.” There's a sharpness to his tone now, an anger. “I was telling the major we're not sure if he can walk the necessary distance. Do you copy?”

“Copy that. I'm happy to hear he's alive,” she responds. “I'm sorry that he's in poor health.” She looks to Messinger. “Is there any possibility of a pick up?”

“Of course,” Messinger says. “Stark just came in a few days ago. We can get him to fly out, meet them halfway.”

“Halfway?” she frowns. She turns to the microphone. “Captain Rogers?”

“I read you loud and clear.”

“Do you think the Sergeant could meet somewhere halfway? It's possible we could get someone to fly out – pick him up.”

“Copy that. We'll definitely do our best. What would be the rendezvouz point?”

“We're looking at a map,” Peggy responds, Messinger already peering at a map next to her. “Just a moment.”

“Roger that.”

She smiles at that. 'Roger that Rogers.'

Alive. Sergeant Barnes is _alive_. She feels hope thrumming through her veins for Steven.

But with that hope comes a dark thought. Sergeant Barnes has been alive and for the past year he's been a prisoner of the remaining Hydra forces in Germany. Who even knew what the man had been through during his time as a prisoner of war? It made her gut twist to even think of it.

There was also the fact he'd been experimented on already at Azzano.

But there is no way she can ask about the Sergeant's mental well being over the radio. She can't ruin Steve's happiness like that. Besides, it will become apparent once he arrives.

She just hopes the poor man managed to hold on to some sort of hope for the past year. It doesn't help that the best possible outcome she can think of is that he was left in a cell and ignored for most of the time or interrogated for information.

Then there are other things Peggy doesn't want to think about. Suspicions.

She drowns them as Messinger points to the map and gestures for the microphone. She hands it over wordlessly.

“Captain?” he speaks. “Do you copy?”

“Loud and clear, sir.”

“We're looking at Klagenfurt. If you can get there, Stark should be able to pick Barnes up and bring him back to London.”

There's silence for a few moments and they wait.

“Roger that. Is there a possibility of bringing one of us back with him? He's... very anxious. Confused.”

Messinger's brows furrow.

“I suppose so. Depends on Stark and what he can fly. I suppose we can get him a skytrain, lift all of you back to London.”

“Copy that. If possible that would be ideal.”

“Are any of you injured?”

“Just Barnes, sir.”

“We'll see what we can do,” Messinger says. Peggy wants to roll her eyes. She understands being tight fisted with resources but they aren't in the middle of a war anymore and this is bringing a fallen hero home. He looks to Peggy. “I'll let you speak with Agent Carter again.”

“Copy that. Thank you, sir.”

“Over and out.”

She takes the microphone, nodding her thanks and speaks.

“Captain, how is everyone else?”

“We're in good health and good spirits. We'll soon be in communication with the town. It looks like they've been harboring agents.”

Peggy frowns. “Copy that. Unfortunate. Will you be on the move tomorrow?”

“Can't say for sure. It's going to take a full day's march to get to Klagenfurt. We'll have to be very careful considering the sergeant's health. But first we need to see what's going on with the town. So we may be reaching Klagenfurt in two days.”

“I'll make sure Mr Stark gets in position,” she says, feeling cheered. For a moment there's silence on the radio and she can almost feel the warmth reaching out from his end.

“Copy that. Once we get things sorted here, we'll be on our way.”

“Roger that,” she smiles gently. “I look forward to seeing you, captain. And of course, Sergeant Barnes. I know his family will be elated.”

“Roger that,” he replies and he sounds so sad and so joyful at the same time, her heart twists. She wants to say 'I love you' but she knows that isn't appropriate. Anyway, she'll see him soon.

“Take care of yourself,” she says instead. “Give the men my regards. Tell Sergeant Barnes we await his return.”

“Copy that,” he says after a few moments. “Over and out.”

“Over and out.”

 

Peggy sighs. She has a lot to consider. She'll have to start drafting a letter to James Barnes's family. Then again, maybe she should let Steven or James write it themselves. She knows that regardless his family will be elated, ecstatic. Then again, what is it like to mourn someone for a year?

Peggy had to mourn Steve for more than a week when she thought he was dead. A ship picked him up in the arctic seas and he ended up in a small hospital in Norway, hidden by people who were loyal to the Allied side. But she couldn't imagine having mourned him for a year and then finding out he was alive. What if... what if she'd moved on with someone else by then?

The thought was haunting. How would James's family feel when they discovered the news? Was there a girl in Brooklyn who mourned him? Maybe several. She smiled a little at the thought – Steve alawys told her that Bucky used to have wandering eyes - they'd be happy to know he was alive.

The news of his health didn't sound promising though. Malnutrition. She could only imagine, at the hands of Hydra. Steven had said that James was injured, but how? A leg injury? She could only hope it wasn't anything abdominal or internal.

She smiles at those in headquarters who are celebrating for the moment, someone even took out a bottle of wine. She politely declines and heads back to her office. She has to get in touch with Howard if Messinger isn't already notifying him. She'll make sure there's a damn skytrain waiting for Steven and the others if she has to make herself a nuisance.

 

* * *

 

The trip into town will take place the next morning.

Steve waffles about whether or not it's prudent to have Bucky come with them into the town. The thing is, he doesn't know if Bucky's been into town before. While it's highly unlikely, someone might recognize him. They're already going to recognize the commandos, and he'd rather not give away any information to possible Hydra moles – the information that Bucky is still alive.

Whatever they were doing to Bucky, as he looks over the documents they found in the room with the chair with disgust, he can tell that it's something Hydra would rather no one have any inclination about. Which is why he has the others pack as much as they can carry in each of their rucksacks.

It's gobbledook to most of them but Gabe and Dernier can translate some of it.

“They refer to him as 'the soldier,'” Gabe informs him as they sit at the table in the kitchen that night. “Or... 'the subject.'”

Dernier is taking a break from the radio in the tower, having a meal. Monty is also at the table. Morita is on the roof while Dugan patrols the halls. Bucky is resting in the room down the narrow hall.

Steve's gut churns at the words.

“Go on,” he pokes at his own dinner, even though he's hungry and exhausted. Not physically, but mentally. The day – the battle, talking with Messinger on the radio and sharing the news about Bucky, and now this – it's all taking a toll. He just looks forward to getting Bucky some real care and rest. Then he can get some rest himself.

Gabe frowns at the papers, a lantern next to him. He's reading closely, brows furrowed. Next to him, Dernier has forgotten about his own dinner and is rifling through papers. He says something in French to which Gabe looks up, then glances to Steve and back to the papers in front of Dernier. Gabe asks for the papers and Dernier slides them over. After several moments of peering at them with puzzlement, and then distaste, he looks up at Steve.

He licks his lips and seems to be trying to figure out how to explain.

“They kept him in isolation, in that room we found.”

Dernier says something else, gesturing to the papers and then looking at the captain who leans forward, glancing between the two.

“They... wanted to make him into a weapon.”

“A weapon?” Steve stares at him, then at the papers. Bucky was already a considerable foe. How was starving him and... and hurting him going to make him a weapon?

“They were breaking him,” Gabe says, shifting in his seat. He looks uncomfortable. “That was what the isolation was for,” he looks at the paper again. “They... the electricity. It calls them 'treatments' here.”

Steve's gut twists again, as if there's a cold knife in it.

Treatments. Like someone in an asylum.

They took a perfectly healthy man... Well, a sane man – considering the fall Bucky took, he couldn't have been healthy and isn't that horrifying to think about – and tortured him until he didn't even recognize his own friends. His best friend, Steve.

“Treatments?” he says, barely able to keep the growl from his voice. Dernier looks up from the papers and his expression is sympathetic, grim.

“I'm not sure what they hoped to gain from it yet...” Gabe looks at the papers again and continues reading. He makes a face at something he finds. “Jesus.”

“What? What is it?”

“They,” he looks up at Steve. “They regularly beat him. Did other things too. Put him in cold water. Ice baths.”

Ice baths. Steve fights the shudder that wants to force its way down his spine. They put him in ice baths, probably in winter.

Bucky was naked when they found him, in a concrete room. He thinks of Bucky down the hall, sleeping on a bedroll and promises himself that as soon as he can, he'll make sure Bucky never has anything less than a down mattress ever again. Warm blankets. Plenty of hot meals. All the comfort he can get for his best friend.

Gabe keeps reading. “God,” he whispers.

Steve waits, staring at him. Dernier is glancing between them, looking more concerned by the moment.

Gabe is shaking his head. He looks overwhelmed now and Steve's heart sinks further. The other man looks up into Steve's eyes.

“They burned him. Just to... just to see how fast he'd heal.”

Steve stares at him.

“They... they did it earlier on. Before this,” he gestures to the papers. “This is a record – day by day of what they did.”

Steve nods slowly.

“Good.”

Gabe stares at him in obvious shock. Dernier frowns, looking at him.

“I want to find everything they did to him on paper,” Steve pokes a finger into the table. “And I want the brass to see it. I want everyone to know about this. What Hydra did here.”

He can't stop the anger that's choking his throat. It's like there's a live animal inside of his chest, trying to claw it's way out and his hands form fists. Dernier makes a sound and he realizes that he's bent the fork he was holding. He lets go of it and it falls to the table with a clatter, bent into a semicircle. He stares at it for a moment, realizing he's breathing hard, then looks up at Gabe.

“How... how long did it take him to heal?”

Dernier looks like he's about to protest, but Gabe looks at the papers again, frowning.

Steve's mind is whirling. He's remembering things that happened after Azzano. Times Bucky was nicked by a bullet or the time he shattered his ankle. It healed in two weeks. Fractures that should have taken months to heal and Bucky barely even needed a cast.

“It looks like he... recovered... within about a month.”

A month. They burned him and let him suffer the burns for a fucking month. Did they even give him care afteward? Or just throw him in a cell after they were done hurting him?

Steve stares at the table and nearly jolts when he feels a hand on his shoulder. It's Dernier and he's giving Steve an earnest but painful look.

“The Sergeant 'as suffered much. We will make sure 'e gets the best care we can.”

Steve nods, blinking. His eyes are hot and wet, but he doesn't really feel like crying. Not now. Not when there's so much anger inside of him.

The battle this morning, it seems, was nothing but whetting his appetite. 

 

* * *

 

 

He goes to check on Bucky after forcing the rest of his dinner down. He has a plate of food fixed up for his friend – cured ham, a mix of carrots and radishes Morita cooked up, bread, jelly, cheese, everything the others have eaten for dinner – and he quietly steps into the room and sets it down on the desk. He's also got a glass of milk for his friend – milk they found, still cold in a container in the pantry. He just hopes Bucky can eat it all.

“Hey Buck,” he says quietly. “Buck.”

The other man is deep in sleep. Bucky's curled up on his bed roll and it's painful to see. Steve remembers him sprawling across his bed in Brooklyn, grumbling about how damn hot and stifling it was in their place. During winters, they would lie close together, beds pushed side by side, so that Steve could make the most of Bucky's body heat.

Bucky's hand twitches by his chin. He's sleeping on his left and Steve wonders if it hurts his arm to sleep like that – or what's left of his arm. Did Hydra take his arm? Or did he lose it in the fall?

He swallows and his eyes feel hot again. He takes one of the candles on the desk and moves closer to the bed, kneeling.

“Buck,” he gently touches the other man's shoulder, shaking it a little. He hates to disturb him but Bucky needs to eat again.

The other man twitches in his sleep. He doesn't wake up slowly or drowsily the way Bucky would in days of old. Even during the war, after Azzano, Bucky would gripe and groan about having to get up and move around in the cold.

His eyes open right away, and wide. He stares at Steve, his face tightening, and then he's scrambling back, away from the other man with a soft, stifled cry.

He scrambles back into the corner, whimpering, and stares at Steve with wide eyes. Even then he doesn't stop, as if he's still trying to push himself back through the wall. His eyes are pleading and then he's looking down at the floor, glancing up to Steve and the candle he's holding.

Steve is too stunned to do anything at first but stare.

“Buck,” he says after a moment, holding his free hand up. “It's okay.” He sets the candle down by the cot. “I know you're scared... But it's okay.” he holds both hands up. Bucky just whimpers.

“Please,” he says. “Please, b-bitte! Es tut mir leid,” he groans. “Es tut mir leid! V-vergib mir! Ich werde gut sein!”

Steve stares at him. He barely understands the words but he can grasp the pleading. Bucky thinks he's done something wrong.

“Vergib mir,” he whines and visibly tries not to sob, his eyes on the floor. “Ich werde gut sein.”

Steve swallows and when he speaks, his voice is raspy.

“It's okay, Bucky. You're safe now. Nobody's going to hurt you anymore,” he swallows his regret, because there is no room for it here. He slowly shifts back and stands up, hands up, like he would with a cornered animal which is exactly what Bucky resembles.

Bucky whines again, looking up at him, then looks down at the floor and swallows, growing quiet.

“Bitte,” he says. Then he glances past Steve and his eyes stare at the desk. He's seen the food.

Steve gives him a small smile, encouraging, as he backs up to the desk.

“It's okay. I brought you some dinner. Are you hungry?”

Bucky stares at him, still breathing fast, then blinks and looks down at the floor.

“P-please,” he says softly after what feels like an eternity. Steve smiles and nods.

“Sure.” he takes the plate and moves closer, causing Bucky to press against the wall again and give him a terrified expression. It hurts and Steve doesn't – didn't – expect it after how comfortable Bucky seemed earlier.

Well, he wasn't comfortable exactly, but he was curious and talking to Steve, asking about his family and the letter. Now it's like he doesn't recognize Steve anymore. It's like he's back in that cell all over again.

Cell. More like a damn cage.

Steve feels such a rush of anger and hate, unlike anything he's ever felt in his life. Even when he was fighting Schmidt on the Valkyrie, he didn't feel so much poison in his veins. He's almost shaking with it for a moment.

He looks up and realizing he allowed his face to show his anger. Bucky is trembling and glancing to him fearfully, eyes quickly going back to the floor.

Steve smooths out his features. Then he forces a small smile.

“It's okay.” He says and gently sets the plate on the bedroll. Bucky stays very still while he does and doesn't seem to breathe again until Steve backs away once more. It hurts, but he'll take this next to terrifying his friend to death.

He moves to the chair by the desk where Greta sat the night before and sits down, heavily.

“You can eat, Buck,” he says, gesturing. “Go ahead.”

At that, Bucky sniffs. He wipes quickly at his face with his remaining right hand. Then he looks at the plate of food.

'Eat,' Steve thinks. 'Please, please eat it.'

Slowly, Bucky begins to scoot toward the bedroll again. He eyes the plate of food, his eyes growing wider for a moment as he takes it all in.

God it hurts. Steve can barely stand watching this, but he can't take his eyes away.

'Please eat. Please God, let him eat.'

God must be listening, because Bucky scoots closer. He seems to crouch on his feet, reminding Steve of children he saw in the thirties, kids who slept in the streets and warily approached to beg. It always broke his heart then because he was so lucky, he knew, to have his Ma who worked so hard to provide for them, and to have Bucky and his family who...

Steve swallows.

'Oh God, his family is going to see him like this.'

He can't. He can't bear it. He blinks, ignoring the tears and smiles again.

“Go ahead,” he says as Bucky reaches toward the plate. Damn it. Bucky stops and looks up at him, eyes wide. He glances beyond Steve toward the door and Steve looks at it. Then he looks back and Bucky is very slowly picking up the piece of ham, reminding Steve of a cat.

He crouches there, eating the ham, glancing at Steve every few moments. Steve can't stop thinking 'feral' and 'wild thing.'

He read a story once in a book about a boy who was raised by wolves. It was in some town in France, actually, and the boy was found around age twelve. He acted like this, like Bucky did now, and they called him 'feral.' Like a stray cat.

As he recalls, the boy in the story eventually learned to live with people. Which, gives him some hope for Bucky.

Bucky hadn't spent his childhood in the forest, after all. He'd spent it with a loving family. Bucky was a normal person up until he fell from the train.

But if Steve is being honest, something was different about Bucky even before he fell.

“I'm sorry,” he says softly.

Bucky looks up. He's already devoured the ham and now he's started on the bread and jelly. Boy, does he like the jelly. Steve is going to give him all the damn jelly in the world if he wants it. Anything he wants.

Bucky stays still for a moment until Steve nods to him, to the plate. Bucky continues eating then, watching Steve closely. He still keeps his eyes toward Steve's boots rather than his face. Steve watches his too thin face work as he chews, watches his jaw flexing under bristle.

“I'm so sorry,” he says again. “I knew there was something wrong, but...”

It feels wrong, saying this to Bucky somehow. Steve knows, somehow, that he can't quite understand, but... He blinks and finds his eyes wet with tears.

God, let him at least be able to talk the way he did the day before!

He sniffs, wiping at his eyes. After a moment he looks up and sees Bucky watching him, just holding the bread in his one hand. Bucky's eyes actually look... sad. Sympathetic.

“I'm sorry,” Bucky says after a moment.

Steve frowns. “Why?”

Bucky shrugs his right shoulder. Steve notices that he's kept the left mostly still and he wonders if it hurts. He'll have to find out, look for some penicillin or something he can give his friend. Steve doesn't even know what kind of medical care he's had for the arm and he doubts Morita's gotten a close look at it. It's still bound in bandages.

“I...” Bucky gestures toward the corner with his one hand, then holds the bread close to his chest. “I acted bad.”

“You didn't act bad,” Steve says. “You were scared. I startled you. That's my fault.”

Bucky lowers his head. He says nothing and after a moment begins to eat again. Steve smiles slightly, pleased at least that he's eating and talking again.

“Tomorrow I'm going to head into the village. We have to make sure that Hydra is gone.”

Bucky's stopped eating and he's giving Steve a lost look.

“I'm going to take two of the guys with me. The other two are going to stay here with you – Gabe and Dernier, probably. That way they can-”

Bucky is breathing harder, giving him that lost look.

“Please,” he says. “Please. M-may I...”

“You want to come with me?” Steve guesses, touched.

Bucky nods rapidly. “Please.”

Steve swallows. “You're not doing well. You need to rest more.”

Bucky blinks several times and he looks... God, he looks like Steve just crushed all of his hope.

“We'll be back,” he adds, not knowing why. “We'll be back, Buck. And we'll take you home.”

His friend's lip is still trembling, but he lowers his eyes and he nods, sniffling.

“Danke.” He freezes, looking up at Steve fearfully. “Th-thank you.”

Steve gives him another smile. He feels so tired all of a sudden.

“I want to take you home. So you can see your family.”

Bucky blinks, his eyes on the plate. He looks at the bread in his hand, then up at Steve for a moment before glancing down again.

“They... want to see me?”

“Yes,” Steve nods. “I know they'll be so happy.”

Bucky stares at the floor and his brows are furrowing as if he finds the concept strange.

Steve's lips stretch into a small smile and he silently sighs.

“Don't eat too fast,” he says, then slowly stands. Bucky stills, looking up at him with eyes wide. “I'm going to be sleeping in the hallway tonight. So I'll be close by if you need anything.”

Bucky nods, blinking, after a moment and looks down again.

“Thank you. Steve.” He says.

Steve takes a sharp breath in at the name and Bucky looks up as if uncertain. Steve gives him a small smile, his eyes growing wet again.

“You're welcome, Buck.” He says, then leaves the room.

 

He goes out into the narrow hall, then moves into the entry hall. He doesn't have asthma, but it feels like he can't breathe. 

Bucky... Bucky cowers in a corner and then thanks him for dinner, thanks Steve for taking him _back to his family_ , for not leaving him in this _hell hole_.

As if Steve would ever let Bucky spend another damn day in this fucking place. This God damned forsaken place. Steve's never seen a place that resembles hell outside of a battlefield or a concentration camp – and he's never seen those, only passed them after the prisoners were released and they stood barren and empty – more than this fucking place. 

He gasps softly, a hand to his chest, the other hand feeling on the wall in the darkness. 

He breathes hard, almost wheezing, as he sits down, his back to the wall, and tries not to cry out loud. He can't do that. He can't let Bucky hear him crying. He can't let any of the others see or hear him crying either. Because it would just be too much. It's just _too much_.

He covers his mouth with his hands and sobs as silently as he can. 

Bucky, who cowers in a corner and thanks him for dinner and begs to be taken into that godforsaken town that sheltered the _shits_ who did this - called him _Steve_.

And then looked like he expected to be hit. 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Steve is breaking my heart too. Oh, Steve. At least he'll get some canoodles from Peggy soon. And Bucky will get out of that awful fort.


	9. Compliance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve visits the local village to determine whether or not they were accomplices to Hydra's crimes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The fortress in the story most closely resembles Hardegg Castle but that's nowhere near where the Howlies are in this fic. Friesach is probably the closest to where I mentally put the Howlies and the closest castle there is Burg Petersberg. I neglected to name where they were in the last chapter and I'm sorry about that. I actually picked a place and then picked Klagenfurt as a rendezvouz point and now I can't remember the original place I picked. Derp! So Friesach it will have to be. 
> 
> Also, I apologize if the German translations are terrible! 
> 
> I've been horribly busy with classes and work, but I do want to update this fic. I don't plan on abandoning any of my Bucky fics, just FYI. Sorry for the wait!

Steve had greeted the mayor of the town politely in the letter but made it clear that no resistance from Hydra would be tolerated. Even if the war was officially over, Steve had no illusions – Hydra, or that segment of Hydra anyway, had been operating in the fortress without consequence. That meant Hydra was operating elsewhere – and Peggy had already had this suspicion but didn't speak of it in detail, insisting that it was 'Classified.' Steve realized uncomfortably that he was going to have some _questions_ for his fiance. He could only hope she would be forthright and not try to evade them.

He respected Peggy as a professional, as an agent. But if they were going to be married... this didn't just affect them. It affected Bucky and maybe others like him. The thought that there were others out there, somewhere, being tortured like Bucky made his heart twist and he prayed to God it wasn't so.

He felt a twist of disgust. Did his prayers even reach heaven? _Was_ there anything to reach? Guilt prodded him to ask God for forgiveness for his unbelief, but he could not repent of his doubts, not when his heart was so angry at what Bucky had endured. 

Steve ended up taking Jones and Falsworth with him. At least one radio operator was needed back at the tower in case the SSR got in touch. Dugan and Dernier together would be able to handle anything that came up – if the mysterious missing Hydra soldier showed up, for instance and Steve had an uncomfortable feeling that he might if he hadn't frozen to death the night before anyway. Jones would be useful as an interpreter and Falsworth would be able to provide back up if things got ugly.

Steve tried to dispell his thoughts and keep his eyes on the forest as they walked. He decided it was too risky to take the truck – any of their own people in the area might confuse the truck for enemies and attack and the townspeople might assume they were Hydra. Steve wasn't sure how the townspeople would react now that he'd sent the letter with the boy the night before, but there was no telling.

'Sternberg,' he reminded himself. 'Not a boy.'

Sternberg was a young man and he had chosen to serve Hydra. Steve still found it difficult to understand how anybody could serve Hydra but Peggy had informed him that sometimes coercion was involved. He didn't think coercion had been involved in the case of Sternberg and there was no need to be cruel to a prisoner, but he'd learned during the war that pity for the young could get you killed. Just because someone looked like a boy didn't mean they would show any hesitation in firing their weapon.

He wouldn't hesitate to fire if he found the soldier who'd slipped away. Whether he was injured and partly frozen or not.

“I do wonder why you chose me rather than Dugan,” Falsworth said. Steve was nearly startled from his thoughts and his perusal of the area.

“Isn't that to suggest you're basically the same?” Steve raised an eyebrow, still keeping his eyes scanning. His tone was light, teasing. Falsworth smirked.

“Perhaps. As much as it pains me to admit it, though, I do believe Dugan is a better shot than I am.”

“You're hardly helpless,” Steve noted. Falsworth chuckled.

“True.”

“I just thought it would be good to have some nice British manners along for this trip,” he said.

Falsworth laughed softly.

“I'll try to be at my most charming. But what if we don't encounter a welcome?”

“Then that fieryness of yours should come in handy too.”

Jones was slightly behind and Steve glanced back to make sure he was all right. He seemed fine, his eyes scanning behind them as he followed.

“I'll take point,” Falsworth said. Steve nodded.

 

* * *

 

They reached the town making good time. Steve noted the traditional build of the town, and in the old days he would have loved to spend hours just wandering and sketching. It was built with a small moat around it, walls surrounding it. He could glance back up the 'hill' behind him and see the fortress above, most of it hidden by trees from this angle.

He slowed to a halt as they stood about a hundred yards from the entry gate. There were no soldiers posted, no welcoming committee. Not that he'd expected the latter. Still, years of experience taught him not to take the peaceful appearance for granted.

“Now what?” Falsworth asked at his side. Steve frowned.

“Now,” he took his hand off his pistol at his hip and carried his shield on his other arm. “We make our presence known.

He walked, not down the center of the street but along one side, Falsworth keeping an eye on the windows of the upper floors across the street. Jones trailed behind them.

After a few minutes, they encountered a young woman and her son were walking along the street toward their direction and she halted, eyes wide. She instinctively pulled her boy closer to her side – he had to have been about eight years old. Steve noted the way she seemed to eye the opposite side of the street. He slowed his walk to a halt, Falsworth stopping beside him, Jones almost running into his back.

He nodded to her, taking off his helmet, even if he knew it was risky.

In the old days Buck would have had a fit. He could almost hear his friend hiss ' _Steve_ ,' and his heart twisted in his chest.

“Guten tag, fraulein” he said to her, bowing. “Wo ist da... “ He turned to look helplessly to Falsworth, then glanced behind him at Jones.

Falsworth stepped aside so that Jones could move up beside Steve.

“Wo ist da Rathaus?” Jones asked in a gentle voice, nodding to the woman.

She eyed them all nervously, then licked her lips. The little boy piped up, pointing behind the way he and his mother had come from.

“Hinunter diesen weg!”

His mother shushed him but then looked to Jones, glancing to Steve and Falsworth before saying something similar with a nod.

“Dankeschein,” Jones nodded. He gestured the captain and his teammate forward and they passed the young lady, Steve reaching up to touch his hat as he passed her. She smiled a little as if bemused and a flush came over her cheeks. But then she was hurrying on with her son, probably toward home. The boy kept glancing backward at them and waving. Falsworth chuckled.

“You're so gallant, Captain,” he teased.

“Well... hardly any need to be rude to the locals. We won't make any friends if we scare the daylights out of them. Anyway, Jones was far more polite, I think.”

Jones's cheeks darkened a bit and he seemed to be suppressing a small smile.

“Right,” Falsworth said. “I must say that young lady was...” he blew out a breath and shook his head.

Steve elbowed him. “Don't get saucy. We're on a mission here.”

Falsworth chuckled.

They reached a pristine, official looking building. Steve liked the pastel colors of some of the houses here but there wasn't time to spend admiring the town. They encountered a few other townspeople along the way and then found themselves in a sort of townsquare, before the white building that Steve took to be the town hall.

Now they had a small crowd watching them and Steve knew he had to be on his best behavior or there would be an international incident.

He quietly ordered Jones and Falsworth to put their weapons away and they reluctantly obeyed.

Then Steve was leading the way up to the door of the building and entering.

They found a broad hallway, the floors shining clean, and several doors. Steve frowned, wondering if they should just knock on the first door. He glanced to Jones who shrugged and then opened the first door on his left.

There were two men, one behind a desk and the other sitting down having a conversation. They stopped and looked up in growing surprise as Steve stepped in. He stepped aside to allow Jones in.

“Guten tag,” Jones greeted them. He spoke for a few minutes with the men who both stood. The man behind the desk seemed confused at first and it sounded like he asked several questions before putting on a smile and greeting Steve.

“Ah, Captain America,” he said in broken English. “Welcome. Welcome.” He said something to the man across the desk and the man nodded to them before slipping out of the room. He headed toward the front door and out of the building a moment later.

The man behind the desk gestured for them to sit but there were only two chairs so Steve stood.

Jones looked to Steve.

“Can you explain to him,” Steve said. “That we sent a young man earlier with a letter for the mayor?”

Jones looked to the man behind the desk who Steve guessed to be some sort of secretary and began to speak. The man let out a soft laugh and then nodded.

“Please, please sit,” he gestured. “I am mayor here.”

Steve took a seat after a moment of reluctance and Jones sat with him. Falsworth stood by the door which he shut behind him.

The mayor was smiling and nodding to Steve, then looking to Jones.

“Can you ask him what became of the soldier? Sternberg?” Steve said quietly to Jones who nodded and spoke again in German. He spoke fluidly, after much practice Steve knew, and he barely had an accent. Steve was relieved to have Jones with them. Dernier would have been able to translate but he probably would have been more hostile. Jones was speaking in a respectful, gentle tone.

The mayor seemed to pause, glancing to Steve before responding.

“Yes... he says that the... soldier was taken in. And they have him in a holding cell.”

“Where?”

Jones asked and then translated.

“It's in the local jail. But uh... he says they aren't sure what to do with them. They read our letter and he says he understands the severity of the situation.”

Jones had actually written the letter, taking dictation from Steve and translating into German. Steve had written the letter first then realized that most Austrians probably wouldn't speak English and the mayor might not be able to understand.

“Where are the other Hydra soldiers?”

The mayor's eyes widened slightly as Jones translated. He began to speak quickly, gesturing.

“He says he didn't know they were Hydra.”

'Bullshit,' Steve thought but he swallowed his anger. Flipping the man's heavy old desk over would not help.

“He says that the soldiers told him they were part of a research team. From Berlin.”

“A research team,” Steve nodded, unable to keep the cynicism from his tone. He glanced to Jones, then Falsworth who had an eyebrow raised himself then shrugged. Jones didn't translate this time.

“Where are they?” Steve asked, trying to keep his voice calm. Jones translated. The mayor spoke again and this time stood, almost startling the commandos. He seemed to wince, then gestured toward the door.

“He's willing to take us to them.”

Steve nodded. “I think that might be for the best.”

 

Steve and the commandos followed the mayor out of the building. A young woman came hurrying up to the mayor, in the hallway, along with a pair of what Steve realized were regional militia. They didn't have their weapons out but their eyes widened with surprised when they saw Steve and his commandos.

He saw, out of the corner of his eye, Falsworth reaching toward his hip and shook his head.

“I don't think that'll be necessary,” he said. Jones nodded and Falsworth relaxed.

The young woman was asking questions quietly and the mayor seemed to brush her off. He smiled at them and gestured them out the front door.

They followed the mayor out of the town hall and down to what looked like a very simple definition of a jail. It was a small building toward the center of town, flanked by what Steve guessed were houses or other administrative places. The mayor opened the door for them and gestured them inside.

Inside the mayor spoke briskly with a young man at a desk and then they were lead back into the building. He stepped carefully and allowed the mayor to lead him.

There was a narrow hallway with cells along his right side. He felt Jones and Falsworth moving carefully behind him, in case of a trap. Though Steve didn't think it was likely – the mayor himself would be trapped in here with them.

Inside of one cell there were three men and in the last cell, there was Sternberg. Steve noted the uniforms – similar to what he'd seen on the guards of the fortress but they didn't remind him quite so distinctly of Hydra uniforms during the war.

'They still don't look like 'researchers' from Berlin,' he thought.

The mayor was then speaking to him and Jones and Steve frowned.

“He says these are all the ones they rounded up.”

One of the prisoners was now standing while the other two sat on bunks. One was lying down and didn't seem bothered to get up. Sternberg had stood and was now watching quietly from his cell. He gave a nod to Steve.

Steve nodded, looking to the mayor.

“Danke schön,” he said to the man who looked so relieved. He probably thought he was going to end up in front of a firing squad. That still remained to be seen but it wasn't Steve who would be doing it. He suspected headquarters would want to investigate the area thoroughly and that led him to think about the files Dernier and Jones had found at the fortress.

Suddenly he wasn't so sure he wanted anyone at headquarters looking at those.

It all depended on how much they already knew about this and Steve suspected, uncomfortably, that they knew more than they were willing to let on.

He thought again about Peggy, but he reminded himself to focus.

“I would like a list of these men's names and ranks to take back with me,” Steve said to Jones. “Also, we're going to need him to keep them here until headquarters can decide what to do about them.”

Jones nodded, then looked to the mayor and translated. The mayor looked calm now as he raised his eyebrows, anticipating Jones's speech. He smiled at Steve and nodded.

“Of course, yes!” he said to Steve. “Come, please, Captain.”

He led them back down the hallway and Steve gave the men one last glance. One of them sneered at him. Sternberg just watched him walk away. Steve almost felt a brief moment of pity for him.

But Sternberg had made his choice and it was none of Steve's concern what happened to him. If anything, he'd probably be questioned and then released with barely a rap on his knuckles, considering his age. At the worst he'd spend a few months in a brig somewhere.

They entered the front room of the jail and Steve and his men were once again welcomed to sit while the clerk at the desk furnished the proper documents. The mayor offered them something to drink but Steve and the others politely declined.

 

When they were finished, the mayor offered them a ride back up to the fortress and asked if any of their men needed medical assistance. Steve thought of Bucky, glancing to Jones, but then he declined.

“We'll gladly accept any supplies he'd like to offer,” he said, thinking of Morita. The mayor had his secretary run down the street for supplies from a local doctor.

He asked Gabe about the food supplies at the fortress but he and Falsworth seemed to think they had substantial to eat.

After much bowing and thanking Steve was relieved to be sitting in one of the militia men's personal truck while Jones and Falsworth rode in the back. They exited the town quickly and Steve was almost sorry – for his men – that there would be no time to gather more supplies. He knew Dugan would have liked to drink or chat with some of the women.

But Steve couldn't console his conscience with thoughts about his men and he didn't think they'd really want to stop and visit in a town that had sheltered Hydra – unknowingly or otherwise.

 

* * *

 

They reached the fortress in their truck, Steve telling the driver to halt just before the gates. He stepped out and waved his shield around so that Dugan could see it. Dugan shouted and waved from the roof and then Steve urged the driver on through the gates.

They unloaded their supplies and thanked the driver, informing him that they didn't expect to stay any much longer. Jones explained that they would be leaving soon, for Klagenfurt and the driver offered them a ride there.

Steve, actually touched, told Jones that they wouldn't need it since they had the truck from the soldiers - another reason why he didn't think the townspeople weren't quite as innocent as they liked to pretend. They may not have supplied the truck, but they had almost certainly supplied gas for it among other things.

They headed inside through the back door after thanking the driver again and waving as he drove back down the hill. Steve was glad the man hadn't asked him to sign anything. He didn't think he could handle it.

“I'll be glad to get out of here,” Jones confessed after letting out a breath. Falsworth scoffed.

“Same here. Be good to be back in London...” he grew quiet and Steve knew they were all thinking about Bucky now. He would be relieved to have Bucky in London, though he didn't think an army base was the best place for his friend now. Still, Buck would get the medical care he needed and by now Peggy would be putting together the appropriate documents to notify his family. She would likely wait on Steve, of course, knowing that he'd want to speak to them personally.

Cheered by the thought of his friend better nourished and cleaned up, he quickened his step into the fortress.

 

Bucky, surprisingly, was sitting with Dernier in the tower, cards laid out on a table between them. Steve smiled, cheered at the sight. Jones had taken the supplies to Morita and Falsworth had offered to relieve Dugan on the roof. Steve was grateful to all of them.  

Bucky looked up from the table. He'd been contemplating his hand of cards and eyeing the ones on the table. Steve noticed that Dernier poured him some apfelwein. Bucky brightened at the sight of Steve and stood up, pushing his chair back. He dropped the cards to the table and saluted Steve.

“Hey,” Steve smiled at them. He was carrying a tray of dinner and moved to set it on the table. “At ease, soldier.” 

Bucky dropped his saluting arm, but remained standing.

“You can sit. It's okay.” Steve hated the delicate tone he was using but he couldn't help it under the circumstances. Buck immediately plopped back down in his chair, but kept his eyes on Steve. 

He nodded to Bucky and raised an eyebrow at Dernier, tilting his head toward Bucky. 

"I went down for something to drink and I ask if he would like to play a game. I'm bored of this waiting." 

"That's great," Steve gave Bucky a little smile. 

“And the town?” Dernier asked.

 

He looked to Dernier, pulling a chair up for himself. The french man was already availing himself of some bread on the tray, breaking it and passing it to Bucky who accepted it with a nod and a soft “Thank you.”

“Well we met the mayor,” Steve poured himself some of the tea on the tray after offering to Dernier who shook his head and pointed to his apfelwein. He looked to Bucky. “Want some tea?”

Bucky shook his head.

“No, thank you, s-Steve.”

Steve smiled a little at him, then watched as Dernier set to cutting a thick wedge of cheese into slices. He moved some of the slices over to Bucky who gladly put one on his piece of bread and began to eat.

Some of his earlier anger abated at watching Bucky eat.

“And what did he have to say?” Dernier's eyes suggested he already knew and Steve adopted a wry expression himself, sipping the tea.

“He said that they didn't know that these men were Hydra.”

Dernier let out a snort.

“Of course.”

“I don't know what I expected,” Steve shakes his head and sighs.

“And the squids?”

It always used to amuse Steve, Dernier adopting the term, especially since he pronounced it 'squeeds.'

“In the local jail. I wonder how difficult it was to get them in here.”

“Mm. They have a militia?”

“They do. We didn't encounter any trouble. Everyone was too happy to be cooperative.”

Dernier scoffed, then coughed on the bread in his mouth. He took a sip of apfelwein.

“I'm sure headquarters will send people to collect the squids later but I don't know what's going to happen to them.” He had to hold back the words 'and I don't care.' He did actually care. He sort of hoped they'd be lined up in front of a firing squad but he doubted that would happen. Life was rarely so just. Well at least Peggy might get some good intel out of them.

“Mm,” Dernier said. “Carter will have questions for them.”

“I'm sure she will.”

“Steven.”

“Hm?” He looked up from the piece of bread he was now spreading jam on for Bucky.

“What should we do with the papers we find?”

Steve sighed, looking down at the bread he was holding. He handed it over to Bucky, setting it by his cards.

“There you go, Buck.”

His friend's eyes widened in slight surprise and he actually smiled a little, shyly before accepting it. It made Steve's heart melt and he gave Bucky a small smile in return.

“Thank you.”

“You're welcome.” He looked to Dernier. “I'm not sure.”

Dernier raised an eyebrow. “You don't want to take them to headquarters?”

“I... I don't know. Some of this, I definitely want Pe- Agent Carter to see. But some of this... I want some answers. And I think it would be best if,” he glanced at the table then almost smirked at the metaphor that came to him. “I think we should keep some of our cards close to our chest.”

Dernier nodded.

“I understand.”

He took some slices of cheese and stuck them on a piece of bread, taking a bite. It was now afternoon and Steve realized he hadn't eaten much before they set out. He was starting to feel a little shaky from hunger. He began to sip from one of the cups of tea. After a moment he realized Bucky was watching him closely.

When Steve looked at him, the other man glanced down and away, his face growing slightly flushed. Steve smiled a little, trying to be encouraging, then thought about Bucky's gaze as he took another bite of his bread and cheese, looking at the card game Dernier had started up again. Bucky had been staring at him almost avidly. His expression had seemed hopeful, which Steve thought was a good change.

After finishing his tea and eating, Steve joined them in a new game. It made him sad to see how shyly Bucky would take his turns. Dernier had taken to congratulating him when he did particularly well after setting down a good card and Bucky would smile slightly, ducking his head. It made Steve's heart ache. He wanted to pull Bucky under his arm, promise him he'd always be safe, that Steve would never let anyone take the other man out of his sight again... But he knew that doing such a thing would probably just startle his poor friend.

He was pleased to see that Bucky looked a little more rested now and his skin had taken on a more healthy hue – in the places where it wasn't still bruised – even if Bucky still looked what Peggy would call 'peaky.' He was still very thin too and his beautiful cheekbones were very defined.

Steve swallowed, slightly disturbed by his own thoughts. Bucky wasn't beautiful, he was _handsome_. Or had been. No, he closed his eyes tightly at that thought and took a deep breath. Bucky would be handsome again, when he was healthier. He was still kind of handsome now...

He opened his eyes and realized that Dernier and Bucky were both watching him. Bucky's blue eyes were slightly wide and he was frozen in place, reminding Steve of a rabbit.

He forced a smile to his lips, glancing from Bucky to Dernier.

“You okay?” Dernier asked. He always made an 'o' symbol with his fingers when asking the question. Steve thought maybe he'd learned it from Gabriel and his smile eased, became more genuine.

“Feeling better.”

* * *

 

That night, Bucky managed to sleep well and only had one, brief, disturbing dream. It was a dream about ice and snow and trying to move through the snow, to find someone. There was a ravine at first, like he'd dreamt about before, then it became a dark forest, his vision blurred by the falling snow. All he could remember from the dream was traveling through the forest and searching desperately for someone, something, but finding no one.

He woke with a painful feeling in his chest. It wasn't – couldn't be called – as painful as some of the things the guards had done to him, but it was like an ache. It faded when Steve brought him some 'breakfast' with a gentle smile.

He ate everything on the tray, Steve reminding him to eat more slowly.

“There's been a change of plans, Buck,” he said.

Bucky froze, in the middle of biting into a piece of bread. He bit down, through it, and chewed more slowly.

“Plans?”

“We were originally going to drive to Klagenfurt, see if we could meet up with Howard there. He could fly you – maybe both of us – to London. But they decided it made more sense for us – the whole team - to drive up to Wolfsberg and take a train from there to Vienna. There's an army office there and maybe we can get a flight to London later.” Steve gave him another smile.

'He's trying to be encouraging,' a voice inside of him told him. He wasn't sure where the voice came from but it felt familiar. Bucky nodded. 

For a moment he'd been afraid the captain – Steve – would tell him that he would have to stay here. But now he saw that that was foolish. He was still a prisoner, and apparently of high value, regardless of what the guards said. But it also seemed that he remembered these men and they counted him one of their number. He gave Steve a smile when he was done chewing. It felt a little strange on his cheeks, almost uncomfortable.

“Understood.”

Steve's own smile broadened and Bucky felt the warmth in his chest again, the fluttering.

“Good. We're going to get to packing things.”

Bucky nodded and wiped his mouth with his sleeve, putting the remainder of his bread on the tray and standing. Steve watched, blinking, as he began to roll up the bedroll.

“Oh. You don't have to pack right now,” Steve said, chuckling. Bucky stopped and his face heated.

“Oh.”

“You can finish your breakfast first. But thanks for wanting to pitch in.”

Bucky nodded. He sat back down on the bed roll and began to eat from the tray again. He gave Steve another smile and the captain smiled back, even more radiant than before. It gave Bucky another strange flutter in his chest. 

"It's going to be really nice to get you out of this place," Steve confessed, rubbing his hands together. Bucky wondered if they were cold, but Steve always seemed so warm. Bucky should have been warm, but he tended to shiver a lot in here. He nodded in agreement. 

"You'll get to see Peggy!" Steve smiled slowly. "Oh and the ring I got her. It's - 

_"So beautiful!" The girl was cooing as she looked at her friend's finger. Bucky smirked and shook his head, elbowing Steve._

_"Look at 'em. Buy 'em a big rock and they'll love you forever."_

_"Aw, I don't know about that," Steve frowned, his lips doing that little pout that Bucky found distracting. He always tried not to stare. "The rock's just a symbol."_

_"I know. But look at how excited they get," Bucky shook his head. "I been thinkin' about me and Grace."_

_"Aw, Buck," Steve gave him a sympathetic look. "No offense, but I think Mr McAlister'll have a coronary if you show up with a ring."_

_"Yeah, well, I'm gonna get a real job one o' these days and he won't be able to say no to me. Sides, we'll look good together won't we?" He grinned and Steve laughed._

_"Sure you will. But I don't know if she can put up with a goon like you."_

_He elbowed Steve good naturedly and the smaller man groaned, rubbing his ribs. But he was laughing._

_"Yeah, yeah! Laugh it up! You just wait and see!"_

Bucky was smiling as the images in his head faded. Steve was watching him with a puzzled look, a smile on his own lips. Bucky blinked and felt his face heat and his large smile faded. 

"I'm sorry," he said. Sometimes the memories came and it was like he was right there, with little skinny Stevie. _Stevie_. 

His heart was beating faster again, fluttering and he shifted, looking down at the tray. 

"It's okay, Buck." 

He looked up at the other man, licking his lips. "You... you were small." 

Steve smiled, his eyes lighting up. "I sure was. Did you remember? Just now?" 

Bucky nodded. "You were... There was a girl with a ring. I wanted to buy one." 

Steve frowned, his eyes far off. "You wanted to buy a ring? Oh, for Cheryl, maybe?" 

"Cheryl?" 

"Yeah, you used to call her Cherry." Steve grinned. "On account of her hair being red. She was real sweet on you. You two had a crazy fling. You were both so young and it was pretty emotional." Steve snorted. 

"Oh." Then Bucky shook his head. "Grace..?" 

"Grace McAlister?" Steve's eyebrows rose and he smiled again. "Oh, my God, I'd forgotten. You had a crush on her for... well forever. Do you remember what she looks like?" 

Bucky frowned thoughtfully. Then he shook his head. 

"Grace was really pretty. Blond with... blue eyes, I think? Real delicate and ladylike. Her parents had a lot of money. Mr McAlister was a lawyer. They lived across town but you were keen on her. You used to sneak into her room, climb up to her window," Steve chuckled. "Like Romeo." 

Bucky smiled, puzzled. "I did?" 

"Yeah. Her old man didn't like you too much. Thought you were too rough trade, I guess. But she liked you." Steve was looking off, lips stretching into a smile. Then he looked to Bucky and smiled wryly. "Enough to sneak out with you to the pictures!" 

Bucky's lips curled in pleasure. He could see that - him meeting up with Grace, probably not far from her house, walking her to the theater or paying for the trolley if he had the money. He probably spent a fortune on Grace McAlister, considering how little he made down at the docks... 

He blinked as he sat up, his heart rushing again. 

"I think I remember," he looked at Steve. 

Steve's smile was small but it grew and became softly radiant. 

"That's great." 

 


	10. To Vienna

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky's journey from imprisonment at the hands of Hydra to freedom really begins as he heads with Steve and the Howling Commandos to Allied headquarters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A very overdue update for this fanfic! I'm sorry you had to wait so long. If you're still reading this fic after nearly a year, then I'm touched!   
> I think it's significant that I didn't update this since last September and I'm updating it now in May. That's university for you folks!   
> Expect more updates as it's now summer and I'm done with classes. :) Next chapter you will probably see Peggy again.

That morning, they climbed into the truck Bucky recognized as formerly belonging to the guards, with all of their packs loaded, and headed down the road. Bucky sat in the front of the truck, bundled in a blanket, next to Dugan, who drove, and chatted with him.

Really, Dugan chatted _to_ him. Bucky nodded along to most of what he was saying. As they left the fortress behind them and headed past the town, he turned to give the fortress one last glance. He felt a flood of relief when it vanished from sight and his eyes felt wet. Some part of him sent a thanks up to... God?

He blinked the moisture away, surprised. His emotions seemed to be very strong lately. He needed to get that under control, needed to hide it.

“You okay?” Dugan asked gruffly, as if it made him uncomfortable to ask. Bucky nodded, blinking and looking away.

“Yes.”

 

They stopped on the way to Wolfsberg for a stretch and a meal. Bucky ended up riding in the back with Steve while Falsworth took over the passenger seat. Then they headed on to the town. They reached their destination by late afternoon.

Bucky awoke with the realization that the vehicle had slowed to a stop several times.

“We're here,” Steve said.

Bucky sat up, blushing to realize that he'd fallen asleep leaning against Steve's side, head on his shoulder. His butt and back were sore as he straightened with a wince.

“You okay, Buck?”

He nodded. “Yes. Thank you.”

“No big deal,” Steve smiled, patting his shoulder. “Have a good rest?”

Bucky nodded, the warmth from Steve's side fading as he sat up. “Yes.”

“Good,” Steve said. “I think we're almost to the town hall – that's where headquarters should be. Then they'll help us get on the right train, to Vienna.”

The train. That gave Bucky a sense of foreboding, but he wasn't sure why.

He stretched his arms with a grunt and Steve chuckled, stretching and rolling his own shoulder where Bucky's head had leaned.

Soon they pulled to a stop and Bucky could see cobblestone streets out of the back of the struck as they stood. Gabe and Dernier stepped out first, followed by Steve who helped Bucky out. Bucky, blinked around in surprise, overwhelmed by the sights and sounds. He watched as a pretty young woman passed and she gave him a curious look, a tentative smile on her face. He smiled slightly and nodded to her.

“Buck,” Steve chuckled and patted him on the arm, causing him to freeze. “Oh, I'm sorry.” Steve's face fell. “I didn't mean to startle ya. Here, you can carry this bag.”

Bucky took the backpack with a nod, pulling the strap over his good shoulder. Then he watched as Steve loaded himself with much more, after handing bags to Monty and the others.

Finally they headed into the town hall.

They sat, waiting, in a nice room while Steve talked to some officials.

Bucky felt nervous while they sat in there. Shouldn't he be on the floor, on his knees? But they told him he could sit on a bench alongside the others, so he did. It was strange, to be so sitting there, so clean and wearing clothes. He'd been allowed to eat lunch with the others.

He felt something blooming inside of him – a rising excitement that he couldn't name. But it also made his chest ache. He was glad to be rid of the fortress forever and its memories, but he also felt... nervous.

He felt a hand on his shoulder and nearly jumped.

“Hey Buck,” Steve was smiling at him and something in his belly tumbled. “We're ready to go.”

 

A young man guided them to a train station.

The ride to the station was short. Bucky watched the town go by from the back of the truck with mild fascination. The day was sunny and it almost hurt his eyes.

“You all right?” Steve called above the sound of the truck's engine, sitting across from him. The Captain's hair was getting blown around in the wind. His own darker hair was whipping in his eyes.

Bucky lips quirked in a small smile and he nodded.

“Good. Thank you.”

“It's beautiful,” Steve said, eyes out on the town. Bucky realized he could see the mountains in the distance and nodded. It was beautiful, but looking at them made him uncomfortable.

They arrived at the station and Bucky once again carried a bag, while the others carried more. He felt... sort of bad about it, but if he was ordered only to carry this one bag, then he would.

' _You do what you are told_.' The words echoed hollowly in his head and he felt a chill down his spine.

They waited once again, while the tickets were arranged. Bucky spent the wait listening to Gabe and Dernier talking. He smiled a little when Dernier got animated.

In his mind, he could hear the red haired man – Dugan – shouting.

 

“ _Oh come on, Frenchie, have you got to sing the same damn song?” Dugan snapped._

_Dernier stared at him, then gave Jones a puzzled look. Jones was chuckling._

_Dernier began to sing even more loudly, causing Dugan to roar out protests._

_Bucky rolled his eyes and groaned as he sat up from the hay he was lying in._

_They'd taken shelter in a barn and were waiting out the rain, which seemed interminable. Bucky couldn't stand these two much longer. He headed outside, asking Jones for a cigarette on the way._

“ _You're gonna get wet, man,” Jones told him. “Waste of a cigarette.”_

“ _I'll stand under the roof,” Bucky said. “I can't handle any more of these two.”_

_Jones laughed after him as he exited the barn and stood under the eaves, in the few inches of shelter there was. He tugged his coat closer about him as he lit his cigarette._

“ _Fuckin' cold,” he mumbled. He exhaled a stream of smoke and sighed. His gaze was restlesss, roaming over the landscape for potential threats. At least the rain wasn't blowing sideways now._

_The door to the barn creaked open and he glanced, slightly startled, to see Rogers there._

_He nearly rolled his eyes as he looked away. Steve kept trying to get him alone so they could talk._

_Bucky didn't want to talk._

“ _Hey,” Steve said, standing closer to him, folding his arms over his broad chest. Bucky tried not to stare before looking away. Better to keep his eyes peeled for squids anyway._

_He tried to swallow the disappointment he often felt, looking at the sky. Before Azzano, he'd been able to look up at the sky on sunny days, pretend he was looking into Steve's eyes. His Steve – the little guy from Brooklyn he was supposed to get back to._

_Except now that Steve was gone and the one next to him was a giant oaf._

_Today the sky was gray._

_Bucky grunted noncomittally and nodded to him. They stood in uncomfortable silence for a while. Bucky felt a pang of longing for the times the silence had been comfortable._

_Maybe it was his fault. Maybe he was the one holding things against Steve. Maybe he just needed to get over the fact that things had changed..._

_It was just that nothing made any damn sense. The moment Steve showed up in Azzano everything felt like a bizarre dream. Bucky was still having trouble acceping this was reality. Not in the literal sense – he knew it was reality – but in the sense that he still marveled at how ridiculous their situation had become._

_'Couldn't you have just stayed home?' he wanted to say it but they'd already had that argument and Bucky was done with that._

_Of course he couldn't. He's_ Steve _._

_His heart softened to the man next to him for a moment and he held the cigarette out. Steve took it and took a drag. Bucky admired the sight of his lips for a moment, letting himself appreciate a little beauty on an ugly day, then looked away._

“ _You gonna tell me what this mission is really about?” Bucky asked._

_He felt Steve grow tense next to him. Then he looked and the other man's face was puzzled._

“ _Keeping Hydra from getting more intel to make weapons with. You know that.”_

“ _There's something else, isn't there?” Bucky looked him in the eye. He could always read Steve._

_The blond frowned and looks away._

“ _Bucky-”_

“ _There is. I know there is.”_

“ _Even if there were...” Steve's eyes looked out over the gray day before he turned to look into Bucky's eyes, handing the cigarette back. “I couldn't tell you.”_

_Bucky took the cigarette back with a scoff._

“ _There is something else. I knew it.”_

“ _There's nothing but Howard's-”_

“ _Howard's blueprints. Yeah I got it. Except they didn't need Howard's blueprints, did they Steve? They've already got-”_

“ _Be quiet,” Steve hissed and Bucky looked at him in surprise. “That is not for us to talk about!”_

“ _Oh come on,” Bucky rolled his eyes. “Like it's even a secret that they have that thing, Rogers.”_

“ _Bucky-”_

“ _No, you listen!” he snarled, surprised at his own vehemence. “I saw my own guys turned into vapor. You don't get to tell me to hush hush about it Rogers-”_

“ _I do, actually,” Steve took a step toward him and his eyes almost matched the sky. Bucky stared._

_Steve stared back at him and some of the fire dimmed._

“ _I'm your Captain.”_

 

The memory perplexed him because they were friends, yet they argued – no fought. He was... very forceful then. Stronger. But also... He was rude to the Captain. Dismissive. Distrustful. But why?

What _was_ Azzano? Bucky remembered a dark place – harsh words, beatings, a cell with people he trusted, some of the men here. But he couldn't remember why he'd been there or how. Flashes of blue light. The Nazis had something, but he wasn't sure what it was or why the Captain hadn't wanted him to talk about it.

He could remember that all he'd wanted to do was drink. And go home.

“Bucky?”

Steve was standing slightly over him and Bucky blinked as he looked up.

“Yeah?” He felt his own face grow pale. “I mean... yes, sir? Steve?” He self corrected nervously, glancing down.

Steve gave him a small smile and it looked a little sad.

“We're leaving. Come on. Grab your bag.”

“Oh. Yes.”

Bucky stood, grabbing the backpack and followed them out of the station and onto the platform. Wind whipped through his hair as he eyed the train, waiting there for them. His gut twisted as he heard the steam puffing, smelled the coal powering the locomotive.

“Come on, Buck,” Steve's great paw of a hand gently rested on his shoulder, guiding him to the train. Bucky's legs grew slower, almost stiff.

“Can't,” he stopped, shaking his head.

 

Cold, cold unlike anything he can recall. Freezing, burning cold. Falling, falling forever.

Striking the ground, hard, so hard his cry is cut off.

Darkness. And then... more cold. His face burning, his whole body burning...

But worst of all the sharp, stabbing pains when they find him and drag him. He doesn't understand their language but he recognizes it – Russian.

When his body begins to revive before a fire it burns like hell, worse, he thinks than the fire could. He tries to scream but his throat is raw.

 

He wakes up in a box, some time later. It's cold in the box and the clothes he wears are thin. He hears voices outside and cries for help. Someone hits the box with something and he's told to be quiet.

He feels himself being carried. Are they burying him?

He begins to cry and beg. They hit the box again and he flinches, trembling at the threats of punishment. He hears something huffing – steam coming from... an engine. A train.

He feels the box being hauled up and nearly vomits when it's tossed and lands heavily on something solid. He hears doors sliding shut, chains clanking. Then there is silence.

He calls for help until the.. the carriage his box is in begins to move.

They're transferring him somewhere.

His arm aches fiercely – the stump. He tries to lie still but the train jostles him in the box. He feels sick. He can't get sick in the box. It will smell awful. He will be dirty and they'll be angry when they open it.

Hours pass and he grows tired. He finally begins to fall asleep-

 

“Bucky?”

Steve was standing before him, giving him a concerned look, eyebrows furrowed.

“I... please,” he blinked and swallowed back bile. “I'm sorry.” He looked to the train, then back at Steve. Steve stared at him a moment. Then his brows rose, his eyes widening slightly.

“Buck... it's going to be okay,” his eyes seemed wet.

Bucky shook his head. “Please. No train.”

“Buck, I'm going to be right there with you, okay? I'll sit right beside you.”

Bucky frowned.

“Sit?”

“Yeah. We'll sit together. You and me and the guys. All of us together.”

Bucky relaxed.

“No... box?”

“Box?” Steve frowned for a few moments, looking puzzled, then shook his head. “No. No, we'll sit together in the carriage. We'll be fine.” He swallowed. “I promise, Buck. It's gonna be fine.”

Bucky thought for a moment, considering the train. Then he nodded.

“Okay. I mean, yes. Steve.”

“Come on,” Steve waved him over to the train. He swallowed as he stepped closer. Then Steve's arm was around his shoulders and he was being guided on to the train car. He looked down as he stepped onto the metal steps leading up to the car, grabbing the railing. The cold of the railing and the wind whipping his hair made him remember the dreams where he fell and fell, seemingly forever, but he closed his eyes and swallowed, then stepped up, into the car.

Inside the train, he was guided by Jones down a little hallway. It was quieter and immediately warmer in the train. They arrived at a door to their right and Jones slid the door open so they could enter a carriage.

Bucky's ears almost rang at the quiet in there. His heartbeat began to slow as he took in the sight of two cushioned benches, facing eachother.

Dugan was already loafing across one whole bench and Dernier was sitting at the other end. Across from them sat Monty who immediately slid over and patted the seat next to him.

Bucky went over to sit by him at Gabe's gentle urging.

Then Steve entered and sat by Bucky, closest to the door.

Jones took his seat by Dernier, Dugan sitting up to give them room with a grumble.

 

The seats in the train were comfortable and the car was much quieter, much more peaceful than the platform.

He settled into the seat and realized he felt... safer. Steve was smiling at him.

“See? Not bad, huh?”

His cheeks warmed and he felt foolish. He's been acting weak. Worse, he was insubordinate to his superior.

Disobedient.

“I'm sorry,” he said, lowering his head.

“No, don't be,” Steve smiled at him. “You're doing fine, Buck.”

He gently rubbed Bucky's right shoulder and the dark haired man ducked his head again.

“Thank you.”

“You want a drink, sarge? I swear this is gonna be a long ass ride,” Dugan offered a flask. Bucky's lip stretched at a corner.

“Please,” he held out his hand.

“No need to be so polite!” Dugan smiled at him and handed over the flask.

Bucky unscrewed the cap and sniffed the contents. Whiskey.

“Not vodka,” he thought. He wasn't sure why he thought it would be vodka. But he was relieved somehow.

A swig was good and spicy. He coughed slightly, wiping his lips with the back of his hand. He offered it to Steve next.

“Sure,” Steve smiled after a moment, taking the flask. “Why not?” He took a long sip, then let out a satisfied sound. “Can't affect me really, anyway.”

“No?” Bucky was curious.

“Well yeah. I got the serum and all...” Steve smiled, handing the flask back to Bucky.

Bucky took it and screwed the cap back on, thoughtful.

The serum. The _serum_.

He was small before, wasn't he? Bucky wasn't sure where the thought came from but it made sense somehow. But the man to his right could not have possibly been as tiny as the man he pictured in his head.

Bucky offered it to Monty next who shook his head.

“No thanks. I'd rather not drink after Dugan,” he said with a smirk toward the redhead who glowered at him.

“The hell's so funny?” Dugan glowered at Monty as Jones and Dernier chuckled.

Steve joined in and Bucky handed the flask back to Dugan with a shrug.

“Thanks, Sarge. Clearly someone around here isn't too good for my whiskey!” He then stuck his tongue out at Monty and blew a loud raspberry. It so startled Bucky, that it made him smile, really smile, and he let out a soft huff.

For this, Steve gently clapped him on the back, patting him and smiled at Bucky.

It looked to be a good ride. 

 

* * *

 

Steve watched Bucky drift off and smiled when he felt the man leaning into him. Bucky snorted awake and sat up, blinking and looking around.

“It's okay, pal,” he said. “You can lean on me if you need to.”

Dugan had drifted off and was already snoring himself. Dernier and Monty were both gazing out the window. The sky had darkened slightly, the sun setting. Jones had a book he was trying to read. 

Bucky blinked. The cabin had grown a little darker as afternoon fell. He leaned toward Steve after a few moments of consideration and Steve smiled at him. He frowned when he noticed Bucky trembling a little.

“Are you cold?” he asked.

Bucky looked up at him, blinking. He shook his head, but he was still trembling.

“Just a moment,” Steve said, reaching under the bench and feeling around. He tugged out the blanket he found and gently draped it over Bucky's torso and legs.

The dark haired man, so slender next to Steve's big frame that it made the blonde's heart ache, flushed slightly and looked down.

Steve wanted to put an arm around him, pull him closer, but he didn't want to startle Bucky. He had to be careful with his friend, at least until they could get Bucky to headquarters and have a doctor get a real look at him. Bucky had clearly been through... horrible things. Things that Steve couldn't think of or he'd punch a hole in the carriage's door.

He noticed Bucky look slowly over to the window, then look away, down at the floor.

Poor Buck. It must have reminded him of that last, fateful train mission. Steve swallowed, unable to think of it right now.

He smiled as he leaned back and tucked the blanket around Bucky.

“There you go, pal,” he said, tilting his head back with a sigh and letting himself close his eyes. Maybe if he showed Bucky it was safe to sleep, his friend would follow suit?

A few moments later, he felt Bucky settle against his side and finally the other man's head settled on his shoulder.

Steve prayed a soft thanks to God. He had his best friend back. Yes, Bucky had been badly hurt, but he might be able to recover. Only time would tell.

Fortunately, Steve would be there for his friend, no matter what.

 


	11. Preparations and Paper Work

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Agent Margaret Carter prepares for Sargent Barnes's reintegration. She has questions and so will the higher ups.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Recovery and psychological trauma, mentions of character being underweight due to deprivation, mentions of planned future questioning, period typical sexism. 
> 
> It has literally been almost a year since I updated this and for that I am very sorry!  
> I'll start another chapter on this soon and update it. 
> 
> Not much happens in this chapter but next chapter Bucky will be on base, making contact with the army again. :0  
> I'm thinking Howard Stark will probably also make an appearance. I promise to section off any snuggly Steggy for those of you who aren't fans of the pairing hahaha.

Chapter 11

 

Steve woke, realizing he must have drifted off, when he heard Gabe and Dernier speaking quietly in French. He blinked several times and grunted, stretching his back as he sat up. He’d slouched against the sofa. 

Jones and Dernier nodded to him, the Frenchman welcoming him ‘back to the land of the living.’ He chuckled at that. He had been almost dead to the world for… how long? He glanced out the window to his left. 

“They told us we are almost to Vienna,” Dernier explained. Steve nodded to him. 

Turning his head to his right, he blinked in surprise to see Bucky still leaning into him, except that now Bucky was blinking and awake. 

It took him almost no time at all to wake up apparently. He’d just been dozing away on Steve’s shoulder. 

“Hey,” Steve said softly, astounded at the sight of Bucky’s face in the dimming late afternoon. Thin face and circles under his eyes, that was still Bucky with his gray blue eyes and his high cheekbones. 

Bucky licked his lips and nervously eyed Steve’s face. 

“Hey.” 

It was strange - Steve had never seen Bucky looking this… this thin before, this worn. But at the same time, he almost reminded Steve of the winter of 1938 when Bucky was the sick one for a change. Steve had lorded it over him, bringing him soup and cold compresses while Bucky groaned and waved him away. 

Steve smiled at him slowly. He realized he’d been staring and his face heated. 

“I was just… remembering one time. You were sick. I had to take care of you.” 

Bucky frowned, brows furrowing. 

“You were the sick one. I took care of  _ you _ ,” he answered. Steve nodded, his smile softening. He lifted his arm from behind Bucky slowly, trying not to startle him, but the brunette shifted nervously, looking up at Steve. 

“It’s okay, Buck,” he scooted away a little so that he could sit forward and stretch his arms. He yawned. 

“Anybody have the time?” 

Jones pulled out an old watch he had on a chain, tucked away in his jacket pocket. He popped the watch open and looked at the dial. 

“About five.” 

“We’ve made good time,” Steve sighed. He looked for a canteen and found one. 

“That is liquor. This one,” Dernier tossed him one. “This is water.” 

“Thank you.” 

“Are you sure it isn’t apfelwine?” Gabe grinned at him. Something about his smile made Steve feel warm. How many times had they all been like this, together, all of them including Bucky and… 

And now Bucky was here with him. He felt a little happy flash as he looked at his friend. He knew Bucky had a long way to go, to recover from what he’d been through, and that dampened his joy somewhat, but he was still proud of his friend. Bucky had endured so much and look at him, already sitting up, dressed - 

Steve realized what exactly he was proud of Bucky for and his joy diminished further. He felt the old spark of anger deep down. 

“Steve?” Bucky wondered. He realized his friend had been looking at him nervously and that he had been staring into space, just holding the canteen. Jones and Dernier were watching him as well too. Steve smiled at them. 

“Thank you, Dernier. Ah… everything is fine, Bucky. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…” He shrugged and uncapped the canteen, drinking from it. It was water, actually and he sighed in relief. 

“Water,” he nodded to Jones who chuckled. Then he offered it to Bucky who looked at it then at Steve. 

“Go ahead, Buck,” he said. “Have a drink.” 

Bucky slowly took it and took a long sip. Steve got a good look at his neck, realizing how thin he was once again. He wondered if Bucky was cold. He would have to make sure his friend was well covered. He gently tugged the blanket draped over the two of them - his face heated at the thought that someone else had draped it over them while they slept - so that it instead covered Bucky, moving it up around his friend’s shoulders. 

Back in the day Bucky would have asked him what the hell he thought he was doing and his friend would have shimmied right out of the blanket or tossed it at him. Bucky hadn’t always been so resistant to care - he’d let Steve take care of him if he were sick or injured, but only to some degree. Bucky’d had his pride. 

Now… Now the thin man next to him ducked his head slightly as Steve tucked wrapped him in the blanket, taking a moment to brush a lock of hair from his forehead. 

He caught himself staring once again at the delicate bones of Bucky’s cheeks and jaws sticking out, mentally calculating how long it would take for his face to fill out more, for his ribs to be covered again. It hurt him to see Bucky like this. He needed to feed his friend, make sure Bucky ate good meals, but he’d also have to treat Bucky like a famine victim and go slowly. They would know what to do in Vienna. Peggy would help him get Buck a doctor- 

He looked over realizing that Jones and Dernier were staring, blinking at them before they also blinked and looked away. Dernier smiled a little and nodded to him once again. He winked and for some reason Steve felt his face flush. He smiled a little and nodded back before looking at Bucky. 

 

* * *

  
Margaret Carter had a lot to do. 

She was happy to be the one making the arrangements to notify the Barnes family that their son was alive and on his way home. But she knew it wasn’t as simple as packing Sargent Barnes up on a plane and sending him off to his family. 

If anything, he would have quite the ordeal ahead. 

It really all depended on what condition he was in - and she couldn’t imagine that he would be…  _ well _ after enduring a year as Hydra’s prisoner. He’d already suffered imprisonment at Azzano and she was starting to think there might have been more going on than Zola had let on. 

She grit her teeth in frustration at the thought of the man. She wasn’t happy with SHIELD’s little ‘Paperclip’ operation. It completely went against every fiber of her being to lend any sort of ‘trust’ to such a loathsome little man. Anyone who would willingly serve a man like Schmidt… 

Well, there wasn’t anything she could do about it at the moment. She had to focus on getting everything arranged for Sargent Barnes’s reintegration. 

That, unfortunately, would include a certain amount of questioning. Peggy herself had questions like ‘How..?’ and ‘Why…’ 

_ How _ had Sargent Barnes survived such a fall? It had to be hundreds of feet - he should have died. If the fall hadn’t killed him, it was assumed that the freezing temperatures of the Alps certainly would. 

Why… why hadn’t they found the Sargent before? Steven had searched tirelessly for his friend even enlisting Howard Stark’s help. Peggy had, for months, tried gently to guard her fiance’s feelings. She felt like a heel now but… She had assumed, like so many others, that they would be searching for a body. She knew her love wouldn’t be able to give up hope - it was just in his nature - that Barnes had somehow survived. But she’d come to worry about his sanity and dread the thought of one day receiving notification that the Sargent’s body had been found. 

How would Steve react to hearing such news? Would he fall into despair? Or would he stubbornly refuse to believe it? She wasn’t sure which was worse. 

She was relieved, of course. She should be happy. 

But there were still the questions of how and why. While Peggy might be satisfied not to dig too deeply, there would be other higher ups who would want more information. She just hoped that Barnes would be up to questioning. Steven hadn’t sounded very optimistic over the radio but it was hard to tell. He could just be tired. 

It was understandable if Barnes wasn’t in a good state, she couldn’t assume that Hydra would feed a prisoner well or treat them with any amount of kindness. If anything, the adage ‘there are no prisoners with Hydra’ didn’t make her very optimistic herself. 

She brushed away the dark thoughts, trying to hope that there would be happier times ahead. She sent a prayer up to whoever was listening. But Margaret Carter was a person of action and she believed with every fiber of her being that for prayers best answered, one had to take a certain amount of work into one’s own hands. 

She would try to ease the process as much as she could for Barnes, but she didn’t think it was going to be all that easy. Not to mention how his family might react. They would be overjoyed, of course, but… after a year of mourning they might also have questions. 

They might also might wonder why their son wasn’t located more quickly. 

She hated to think herself so political, but this news, in the wrong hands, could end up very ugly for the armed services and SHIELD. How had a Hydra base managed to flourish under Allied territory for so long after the war? Shouldn’t Hydra no longer be a threat? She could almost see the headlines and it made her lip curl in distaste. 

“What’s got you looking like that, beautiful?” someone’s voice drew her from her thoughts. She scowled at the man at the front desk of the office she’d just entered. He must be fresh blood because he clearly didn’t know who he was talking to. 

She pasted a small smile on her lips. Just the person to take out her disturbance on. 

“I beg your pardon?” she sweetened her voice as she stepped up to the desk. He grinned at her and winked. 

Right. She wasn’t in uniform. She wasn’t sure it would have made a difference in hell if she had been. The young man was chewing gum cheerfully and he popped a bubble as he eyed her up and down. 

“Can I do for you, sweetheart?” 

She set her hands on the edge of the desk, leaning forward slightly. 

“You can sit up and stop acting like a twelve year old. That might be a good start.” 

He let out a chuckle which was really just infuriating. 

“Aw, come on. Why don’t you give me a smi-” 

She gripped his tie in her fingers and with a smooth motion jerked him forward until he was staring into his eyes. 

“Here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to go and find Messinger for me. I’m going to patiently wait here so I don’t have to walk all over the place-” 

“I’m right here, Agent,” she looked up to see Messinger standing in the hallway. He raised his eyebrows. “Mind unhanding Private Keenig?” 

She looked back at the private who was still staring at her with eyes like a fishbowl. She smiled and released his tie, causing him to slump back into his chair. Then she straightened slowly and brushed her hair back in place while eyeing Messinger. 

“That’s Agent…” Keenig started to say, then shut his mouth as Peggy directed a look at him. 

“I… apologize,” he added, glancing to Messinger who was clearly trying not to smile. He gestured to Peggy and she followed him down the hallway. 

 

“I’m sure the good private probably did something to irritate you,” he said as he poured hot water into two cups. She wondered if Keenig was the one providing Messinger with hot water or if some poor woman had been put up to it. She didn’t know why the thought made her feel so foul. Maybe she was just already in a foul mood. 

“Probably?” she raised her eyebrows. “The good private has no manners-” 

“He didn’t know who you were-” 

“Not an excuse for such unprofessional behavior.” 

Messinger’s brows furrowed. “What did he do?” 

“It’s more what he said. But I have more important things to work on than the development of your junior officers. I’ll leave that to you.” She set a file on his desk. “This is everything we know about Azzano.” She raised a hand when he opened his mouth. “I don’t want to have to answer fifty questions about where and how I got this file. Suffice it to say I have my sources.” 

He nodded once, begrudging. 

“Sugar? Milk?” He held out a small pot. She took the pot and spooned herself a healthy dose of sugar. It was almost second nature to eye the cubes before she plopped one into the cup. He let out a soft huff, like he was amused. 

“It’s saved my life, believe it or not.” 

“I’m sure it has.” He did sound amused, but not derisive. She felt a little uncomfortable, so she brushed her hair with her left hand, making sure to turn her engagement ring toward him. Messinger seemed to take the hint and took a sip from his own cup of tea. 

“May I ask why you decided to bring me this file?” He sat down after she did. 

“I don’t believe that a man who endured a year of torment at the hands of the likes of Hydra should be subject to a hundred questions about things he likely has little desire to relive.” She held up a hand. “I know that he will be questioned. I know that you will likely be party to it. I would like to expedite the process as much as possible.” She stared at him. 

He glanced at her ring and nodded. He understood. Good. 

“And you?” 

She blinked. “And I…?” 

“How are you… handling all this?” He seemed uncomfortable about the word he’d chosen. 

For a moment she bristled. As if she… Well. He didn’t seem to be doubting her ability to handle things. Everyone on this base knew about her ability to handle things, even if some… personnel seemed to be skeptical about the ‘legend’ of Margaret Carter, Agent, and her activities during the war. She had a strong suspicion the only reason she was still in the game and not behind a desk had to do with Steven making himself a nuisance to the right people and while no one had said anything about the esteem her fiance enjoyed it did irk her that her own experience had apparently not proven reason enough to keep her active in the field. 

_ ‘Those were different times. The war is over. It was necessary to have everyone active then. There are plenty of able men…’  _  She knew there were a hundred excuses and a hundred people to utter them. 

The worst part was that sometimes she wondered if maybe some of those excuses were valid. If she would be valuable behind a desk. If maybe the reason she wasn’t had a little bit to do with her pride and her need to… to have a hand in things. 

She didn’t trust easily and Howard had pointed that out more than once. Maybe her hands weren’t the only capable ones. (He was a hypocrite though, honestly. Howard hardly trusted anyone in SHIELD with his gadgets these days) 

_ ‘I know my worth.’  _

She breathed out slowly, relaxing her shoulders. 

“I’m… worried about Steven.” 

He raised his eyebrows. “You’re worried about how Captain Rogers will handle it?” 

Her lips twisted in a half smile, a sad one. 

“I’m concerned that he’ll expect Sargent Barnes to be the same man he was before the war. I’m concerned that he won’t understand that neither of them can go backward.” 

“Well,” Messinger leaned back in his seat. “I’m sure they’ll both be fine.” 

“After a year of imprisonment? By HYDRA?” Peggy shook her head. “I’m not so sure Sargeant Barnes will ever be the man he was before the war. And now…” 

“Well they can’t go back but… Well, none of us are who we were before the war. I mean… what were you like before the war, Agent?” 

Her eyes grew far away as she looked at the desk and her lips twitched again. 

“Young. Much younger. And foolhardy,” she met Messinger’s eyes and he chuckled. 

“But you turned out better than all right.” 

She huffed. “Well thank you, I suppose.” 

“I’m sure the Captain will find the resolve to… to help Sargent Barnes adjust.” 

Adjust. That wasn’t really the word Peggy was sure fit, but she nodded. She might be wrong. Barnes - James - might be able to recover quickly. It depended on what they were dealing with and she wouldn’t know that until he arrived. 

“I want to ease this as much as I can for both of them,” she rose to stand. 

“Understandably,” he stood too. “I want to assist with that in any way that I can. But of course, the  department will have their questions.” 

She nodded. “Of course. As do I.” 

He raised an eyebrow. 

“I find it strange that a scientific cell of Hydra could exist in Austria after the war untroubled. Don’t you?” 

“Absolutely,” he nodded. “I agree that we should concentrate our questions there.” 

She nodded. 

“Good afternoon, Messinger.” 

“Afternoon, Agent.” 

Peggy left, her chin lifted high. She would get through this. She would help Steven get through this. Together, they would help James recover. She was determined to return the Sargent to his family, as whole as possible. 

 


End file.
